Hunt of the Dovah
by AidsNinja
Summary: The final battle between two Dragonborn has been decided. When the mighty Dragonborm gets sent to a new land by forces unkown. The Wild Hunt ravages the world and is now dealing with a threat much bigger than Geralt. How does the Dragonborn threaten the Wild Hunt?
1. Welcoming Party

**Hey guys. New fic to those of you who stuck with me so far. I finally found something interesting to do. I went through several ideas and only one of them resonated with me until I got so bored I gave up. Then this one came along. Please let me know what you think. I really need reviews for this one. Thank you and enjoy yourselves.**

Splotches of black decorate the green sky above. It moves constantly, with no hint of clouds. A portal in the center of the sky stands still as its surroundings move like liquid.

The sea is black, with writhing tentacles spewing from the blackened water. Islands of books and paper make up the surrounding land masses for miles on end.

It all seems endless. Every island, a chapter. Evrey step, a page. This is the realm of Apocrypha after all, home of the dreaded Hermaeus Mora, eternal enemy of the Skal.

The summit has been reached. The first stands over the last, in a form of arrogant victory. A mask of octopus design over his over face, sword in hand, Miraak stands victorious. "I knew it would end this way." Miraak spoke in an arrogant manner

"Shut it." Said the last Dragonborn holding on to his last breath "You won't go unchallenged. The entire continent would stop you in your tracks if you even tried to enslave them."

Miraak said nothing in the form of words. He spoke with his blade running through the last Dragonborn's back as no blood was spilt. Confusion was in the air. Silence consumed the summit.

"Aren't I supposed to be dead?" The last Dragonborn questions

"I believe so." Miraak answers

The last Dragonborn began to fade away. It was a slow process. The Dragonborn looked at his fading hands and looked at his body. Everything was fading away, and soon he was gone. Not a thing of him left behind.

"Mora!" Miraak angrily called "What is the meaning of this!?"

"I assume that this is the Aedra's way of saying that it is not his time yet." Hermaeus reasons

"I don't have time." Miraak comments "I need to leave now!"

"Patience Miraak! Or I may just kill you myself." Mora commanded with an ancient tone in his shout

"So you'll finally do it yourself instead of having others do it for you." Miraak said cheekily. Miraak had high hopes of finally returning to the mortal world when he stood over the last Dragonborn. Then his chance ran away from him and Miraak had no clue how long he'd have to wait untill the last Dragonborn's return.

Somewhere in another realm

His body began to reform itself. First the feet, next his legs, then torso, then his arms and last his head. He was in the air. He began to fall backwards. His fall was short lived as he hit the water back first. His armor took most of the impact for what it was worth.

Everyone from the port saw the falling man. A sight to be seen. It isn't every day a random man begins to appear into existence and drop in the water.

He made an attempt to swim upward but his armor was weighing him down. Several attempts to get it off were made, but all failed as the water filled his lungs. He began floating toward the surface as his armor glistened more the closer to the sun he got. His weapons scattered out across the water, somehow not sinking due to their weight.

It had been a few seconds since the stranger had fallen in the water. More than necessary for a man to drown. One of the sailors had grown worried and rowed his boat out to retrieve the body. Along the way a few weapons were found floating in the bay, as well as a round sheild.

Not long after, the body was found floating in the water and then pulled on the boat. The weapons which were believed to be owned by the stranger were also pulled onboard.

The man rowed back towards port, to deliver the body to a healer or someone of the likes.

Talking was heard amongst the crowd. The Dragonborn was half conscious and barely clinging on to what little of it remains. He was still in his armor, helmet included.

His helmet was bear-like in design with a silver like color covering the entire set of armor. The rest of his armor had a gambeson style under-set which covered his arms, legs and body. The armor covering the gambeson was a heavy metal which looked silver in many respects, with black fur surrounding a metal collar around his neck. The fur could also be found as a form of padding that separated his arms and legs from the metal plating. An odd, but quite comfortable choice of design.

The axe had a single head with fur coming downward of the head, covering a very small portion of the axe's upper shaft. It was almost as large as the man in question, and had the same silver coating as his armor.

He had a single more weapon in the form of a double edge long sword made of what seemed to be carved bone. The sword let off a red glow, and was hot to the touch towards the edge of the blade. The handle of the blade came down to an open circle at the end that looked like it allowed itself to be hung on a hook.

The sheild has the same black fur and silver color as the armor and axe. The sheild itself was made of what looked to be spruce wood and the covering of the wood was the same silver-like material. The fur covered the inside of the sheild to provide a covering of the inside.

A group of people were able to pull him out of the boat and back on shore. The inn was the closest building with a bed available for use, so they transported his body there. The most important thing was that he was still breathing and alive.

Upon arrival of the stranger, many questions arose of the man. Who he was, where he's from and what happened to him. He was quickly placed on a table and his armor removed so they could get the water pushed out of his lungs. Why they didn't do so earlier was unclear to them.

He coughed up water and started to come to as his eyes began to open more. His pale blue eyes were masked by his long dirty blonde hair. He was easily half a head taller than most of the locals, who weren't all that short themselves. His body was slightly tanned, yet not all that much.

His eyes opened fully and surveyed his surroundings. Several people surrounded him, staring at him in wonder. "Where am I?" He groggily asked

"Welcome to Ard Skellig, stranger." His savior told him "The entire harbor saw you fall from the sky. An odd sight indeed. May we all get your name?"

"It's Hoen, pleasure to meet you." Hoen scanned his body to find his armor gone. He panicked "Where's my armor? My weapons to, where are they?" He looked nervous, as if he couldn't be without protection.

"They're over there, Hoen. You seem quite distressed without them." A man replied

"Thank you." Hoen went over to his armor to reequip it and strapped his weapons back in place. With his armor back on, his sword hung from his side and his axe and sheild were strapped to his back.

"Are you sure you want to be leaving so soon? You nearly drowned and look tired." The same man offered food for Hoen to eat, but Hoen rejected the offer right away

"I'm fine." Hoen said back as if this were a regular occurrence "I need to be on my way, and where did you say I was again?"

"You're on Ard Skellig." Someone reminded

Hoen was confused. Never in his life had he heard a place called Ard Skellig before. "Where is here exactly? Highrock? Skyrim? Hammerfell?"

"I haven't heard of those places before." A woman in the crowd answered "Did your head not fair well in your fall?"

"My head is perfectly fine. I'm... I'm just lost." Hoen responded

"Let's take you to the Jarl, he might be able to help." Another offered

'This is starting to sound like I'm in Skyrim.' Hoen thought to himself in confusion "How can the Jarl help me?" Hoen questions

"He's always been a nice man. Maybe he might be able to find where you came from." The same man offered

"He's a nice man, but he probably has better things to do than deal with random strangers on his doorstep." A woman said to the man

"It's worth a try." The previous man retorted "So what do you say?" He asked Hoen

"Fine. I'll go, but this is a waste of time and I bet we won't even make it past the front doors." Hoen said in hesitant agreement

Hoen and his escort left the tavern and made their way to the Kaer Trolde keep. They walked trough the dirt pathway and up the steep hill to reach the bridge leading to the keep.

The bridge was long and stable. Made from what seemed like cobblestone, it was sturdier than expected. Many guards inspected Hoen, but never got close enough to touch him.

The armor stood out the most. It looked as if it were custom made. The axe, the armor, the sheild and even the sword. Hoen would just stare right back. To him, their armor looked quite strange itself.

"By the way." Hoen spoke "I never got your name. Would you mind telling me?"

"My name is Osek. Pleased to meet you." Osek let off a friendly wave to Hoen as a gesture of good faith.

"Were you the man who saved me?" Hoen asked

"That I am. And I'm glad I did so, you look like an honorable man." Osek answered in a friendly manner

"That's solely up to your decision. Personally I never cared much for honor, yet I would never fight dirty unless the other guy did." Hoen was quite indifferent on the subject regarding his honor. At least he was honest.

They walked a slight bit further. It was then they were met with the gates of the main keep. Kaer Trolde. Guards were posted right outside the keep.

"Halt!" The gatekeeper yelled "What is your business here!?"

"This man here... ya see... He just kinda, fell in the water. Almost drowned." Osek explained "He's also kinda lost. Doesn't know where he is or how to get home."

"So why do you come to Kaer Trolde?" The gatekeeper asks "He fell in the water and he's lost. Not much up here that can help you."

"We were just thinking that maybe the Jarl could help." Osek said submissively

"No, you thought that." Hoen clarifies "I just need a boat to get home. I'm only giving this crazy idea a try. The Jarl probably had more important things to deal with than lost travelers like me."

"Well it was worth a try." Osek reasoned to make Hoen at least give his idea one last chance.

The gatekeeper looked at Hoen in curiosity, as if he had seen him before "Would this happen to be the same stranger that randomly appeared in midair?"

"Yes, this is the one." Osek quickly answered.

"Interesting." The gatekeeper replied

Foot steps were heard in the back of the gate house. They weren't payed much attention at all. The gatekeeper only shifted his head when he saw a fairly tall, old man who was quite round in size. His hair filled with shades of white and grey as he wears something more akin to noble clothes. He cheerfully welcomes the stranger into the dining hall

Hoen quietly followed as instructed and Osek was sent back on his way home. Walking through the stone keep, Hoen saw three more sitting at a table. The other was a quite round man, just like the one to guide Hoen into the dining hall. The man had a short beard and slicked back hair. He wore a heavy armor that covered his body with a chest piece that seemed to be a chainmail top half and a brigandine bottom half.

Hoen was guided to a seat by the grey haired man at the same table as him and the brown haired one. "So." The grey haired man began "I'm aware that you fell in the harbor from out of nowhere. Is that true?"

"I guess it's true." Hoen verified "May I get your name, sir?" Hoen asked

"My name is, Bran Tuirseach. And this here is my lovely friend, Crach an Craite."

"My name is Hoen." He politely introduced "Is there a reason why I'm in here?"

"Do you not have a family name?" Bran asked

Hoen looked down at the table with a sly grin "Not one that has a decent reputation. Not that it's widely known either."

"I see." Crach said in attempted reason "Your clan isn't exactly honorable is it?"

"My family name is most popular known for bandits and drunks." Hoen clarifies "My _clan name _is something best forgotten, which rightfully it has been. I only found out who they were recently."

"So does your clan split off into several different families?" Crach asked

"It did at one point. Now there are just a few families left." Hoen answers

"How many families left?" Bran asked

"Two or three if you count mine." Hoen answers once more

"So earlier you asked why your up here. The main reason is that people don't just fall out of midair like you just did awhile ago." Bran said

"I could gather that much. Same goes for back home." Hoen replies

"So back to how you just appeared like that, what exactly happened to cause such an event?" Bran asks

"I honestly don't know. One moment I'm about to die and then the next I'm quite far above the water and then I'm in the water as everything goes black." Hoen plainly answered "is there any other reason you have collected me?"

"You wouldn't happen to be a Nilfgaardian spy would you?" Crach humorously questions. Hoen gained a very confused look as he had never heard of Nilfgaardians before

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Did you say Nilfgaardian?" Hoen asked

"Yes?" Crach hesitantly answered "Is there a problem?"

'Yes there is a problem.' Hoen thought to himself "No, not at all. It's just that I don't know where I am, and have basically been called here by someone or something." He replies "I just don't know why."

Bran gained an inquisitive look on his face, as if he were looking for a solution. The table fell silent for a moment as Bran thought of a solution to this dilemma "How about this." Bran started "You're obviously a warrior of sorts." Bran pointed out "Many people of your caliber would be either mercenaries or soldiers. So there are two options right there."

Hoen seemed to show interest in Bran's words "Are you implying that I should work under you?"

Bran shifted his solemn face into a cheeky smile "Maybe." He said with a hidden cheerful tone

"Let's say I end up in your employ. What exactly would I do here?" Hoen asks

"Well it'd be as simple as working here in Kaer Trolde and other areas of Ard Skellig." Bran said back

Hoen gained a look of interest "I'm slightly interested."

"Wonderful!" Bran cheered

Hoen turns his face into a look of wonder "Hold on. How do you know I'm not an assassin here to kill you?"

"Simple." Bran answers "I don't know a single assassin that can use heavy armor like you."

"I'm sorry?" Hoen reacts "What does that mean?"

"Well it's the fact that you wear heavy armor like it's absolutely nothing, and to top that off heavy armor makes quite a bit of noise." Bran explains "Not the best when trying to escape."

Hoen smiled slightly at this. He was thankful to finally find a man who isn't so paranoid of others "Well if that isn't true I don't know what is."

"So you'll guard Kaer Trolde and it's people?" Crach asks

"I don't have anywhere else to go." Hoen replies

"Great!" Bran yells in a cheer "First we need to see what you can do."

"Hmm?" Hoen hums

"I need to see where I should place you. So before showing up here, what are you most proficient in, skill-wise?" Bran asks

"Well I'm known as a master smith who's been trained by the best all over my home. I'm a decent enchanter and can preform at least at an adept level. I'm also no stranger to alchemy." Hoen answers, catching the attention of both of the men "As you can also tell by my equipment, this can answer that for you. I've also dabbled in the arcane arts as well." That last statement really took the two back. A warrior and a wizard? A very odd combination indeed. It's like he's a Witcher of sorts.

The two kings were skeptical of the man's claims. Should he be speaking the truth then Skellige would be a forced to be reckoned with. Should he be lying to the two kings, he would be forced off Ard Skellig to live as a cheat and a liar.

"Well if what you say is true then may we test your abilities?" Crach asked

"I don't see a problem with that." Hoen permitted

Soon a young man walked into the room. He was near the height of Hoen, had a long brown beard as well as short brown hair that came just above his shoulders. He wore a light leather-like armor that is covered by his clothes with what seemed to be bracers made of brass around his wrist which lie atop the clothing instead of underneath it. "Da, I'm going on a raid." He said before he stopped and looked at the man. "Who is this?" He asked

The two kings looked at each other in understandment. They nodded their heads in agreement as if they knew what they were thinking without saying.

"Hjalmar." Crach called "This man here has many claims that I have no ability to prove true. Why don't you take him with you and tell us your story." He suggests

Hjalmar starred at Hoenin his armor of ursine design. He noticed the axe, the sheild and the red glowing sword. "What's that blade made of? I can tell it's bone but I don't know what kind."

"This?" Hoen asks as he points to his sword "Dragon bone. Made it myself."

Jaws had dropped at Hoen's statement. A dragon bone sword is a sight to behold. "Yeah, I'll take him with me, Da." Hjalmar said in joy

"So, Hoen, is it?" Crach asked "Have you been on raids before?"

"A few raids. Some on imperial shipments, some on rival groups. Yet over time I left that behind while trying to find a higher purpose" Hoen responds

"Well to test if your claims are true, I'm having you go on a raid with my son here." Crach said

Hjalmar walked up to Hoen in a cheerful manner. "So your name is Hoen?"

"Yes it is." He replies

"I guess you're coming with me." Hjalmar says

"I guess I am." Hoen ends

The two walked out of the keep into the town itself to gather others for their raid. They reached the stone bridge and looked down at the port itself.

"Hoen." Hjalmar called

"Yes, Hjalmar?" Hoen asked

"Can I see your sword?" Hjalmar requested

"Sure, just stay away from the edges. Those burn the hottest." Hoen instructs

Hjalmar admired the blade as they pass through the mountain that leads to the harbor. Not once did his attention divert from Hoen's craft. A marvelous sight indeed. Hjalmar wanted a sword just like it, a sword that emulates strength, courage and bravery. And a lot of heat.

Eventually they had reached the harbor and walked across a small make shift drawbridge to get to a more populated area of town. Many people already were fighting and drinking their lives away. So much to a point where they little more gold to spend.

The reached the tavern and Hjalmar kicked the doors open and announced his arrival without words necessary. They all had an idea of what he wanted, and they knew it would be fun.

**A/N that was something. So if you're reading this, I'm not fucked. If you want the full story just refer to my latest chapter of Guild of the Dragonborn, my other story- that is if you're new to my work and it's it still is up (Just some shameless self promotion in there.) Anyway, I'd would love to thank you guys for reading this. Have a wonderful night day or whatever the hell time of day where you are.**


	2. The Raid

**Hey guys. I know the first chapter was slightly lackluster than my usual work (if you're familiar with my only other story) but I promise in future chapters such as this, I will attempt do better than the last. To those of you who take the time to look at the characters that will be featured in this story, you would have noticed that I had changed I believe, Hjalmar, it was, to Gaunter O'Dimm. There is a reason for that. A very good one to.**

Miraak is sulking in his loss. Yes he won the bout, yet all the same he lost his prize. The endeavor was meaningless in the end to him. If he could not achieve his goal, then why continue going on. Maybe if that damn oblivion walker actually helped him instead of doing nothing he would be free by now.

"I will crush your skull when I see you next." Miraak thought aloud, expressing his pure rage

"Then I'll just stay up here." Said a man who floats in the air. The man had a shaven head with brown eyes below his black brow. The shirt he wore was bright orange and had three blue lines which are evenly paralleled with each other on the wrist on his sleeves. His pants were a sea blue color and had large black boots that cover everything from his shins to a hand below his kneecaps. "So Miraak, What part of your wish did you not get? I gave you what you wished for."

"O'Dimm!" Miraak growled "I wished to defeat Hoen in battle so I could be free! Not to just win and leave it at that!"

O'Dimm chuckles at Miraak, more so in teasing humor "Last I recall, your exact wish was: _"I wish to defeat Hoen in battle."_, those were your exact words."

"You knew what I meant!" Miraak yelled in fury

O'Dimm looked at Miraak with a grin of arrogance "I did know. But I don't give you what want, I give you what you wish for."

"I will tell Clavicus-Vile of your actions!" Miraak spat "You compete in his territory!"

O'Dimm laughed once more "How very grown up of you." O'Dimm said sarcastically "Telling your elders on someone. So childish."

"Damn you! **Fus Ro Dah!**" Miraak shouted with a thunderous force to his voice. In his blind rage, Miraak failed to notice that his adversary was missing, till he felt burning in his back.

"I'll not tell you again. I give you what you wish, not what you want." O'Dimm let go of Miraak as the burning stopped. "Do I make my self clear?"

"Yes." Miraak grunted

Kear Trolde harbor

Hjalmar and Hoen arrive at the harbor. Many warriors and drunks riddle the port side. A few groups of them are eyeing Hoen as he stands next to Hjalmar. They knew that Hoen was not meant to be distrusted, yet at the same time they did not know if he could actually be trusted.

The duo walk towards the tavern in hopes of finding good men to sail with. A few people pop up In Hjalmar's mind and he hopes to get enough of them.

"So Hoen, have you been at sea before?" Hjalmar asked

"As a passenger, I have." Hoen responded

"This is going to be difficult. Do you know how to sail a longboat?" Hjalmar asked once more

"Not too well. I have little experience in the matter." Hoen answered solemnly

"I can work with that as long as you don't crash us." Hjalmar comments nervously

"Do you not know how to sail a longboat either?" Hoen questioned

"Nope" Hjalmar plainly said

"Well then I guess we'll have to find someone to sail it then." Hoen said "Any ideas?"

"Well there is this one man named, Osek. Not that well of a fighter, but the man has a serious pair on him." Hjalmar said "He's one of the best sailors here to. Once sailed through a storm and evaded the sirens without a scratch on the boat. He took a few, but he was lucky he didn't get any fatal wounds."

Hoen paused for a moment. He heard the name before. It was the man who saved him! "I know who you're talking about." Hoen comments "Last I remember he's about half a head shorter than I am, dark brown hair, green eyes, maybe around 30."

"Yeah, that's him. I know where the bugger lives. Should we get him?" Hjalmar asked

"Anyone else?" Hoen asked

Hjalmar thougt to himself for a moment. "There is this other man. Name's Egill, not that well of a sailor, but the man can put up a good enough fight if he's not wasted."

"Let's grab Osek. I'd rather have a pilot that can't fight rather than a drunk who can't pilot any day." Hoen states

A few minutes later

"Hey! Osek!" Hjalmar called

"Hjalmar, Hoen! Nice to see you! Need anything?" Osek asked

"Need a favor" Hoen requested "We're going on a sea raid and we need someone to sail the longboat. Can you take the job?"

"Of course!" Osek said with glee "Who do you plan on targeting?"

"First thing we see." Hjalmar says

"So if we see a heavily guarded Nilfgaardian treasure fleet, we'll strike them?" Osek asked

"I don't see why not?" Hjalmar said

"Do you ever plan these things out?" Hoen also asked

Hjalmar went silent. "So, Osek, you joining us?"

"Of course!" Osek said

"Go to the docks, we'll meet you there." Hoen ordered.

Osek went back inside to get ready. Hoen and Hjalmar went to the tavern to collect at least 5 more people to join, then they'd be on their way.

The people are vast, but in the end they manage. Their crew is hardy and rough. Two guards decided to join because Hjalmar personally asked them to. The other three were just standard drunks, one of which was an amateur navigator.

With everyone assembled at the docks they board a boat and set sail. The seas are calm at first and they didn't make it past Spikeroog yet.

Osek has done a decent job so far and is sailing at full sail. "Olvir, how much further till we reach Nilfgaardian waters?" Osek asked the navigator

"An hour or two if the wind keeps picking up like it is." Olvir said

"If the wind doesn't pick up from here?" Osek asked

"5 at best then." Olvir said "But the wind keeps picking up every few minutes or so. There may be a storm coming."

"Hoen." Hjalmar said

"Hmm?" Hoen responded

"This is going to be awhile, so why don't you say a bit about yourself." Hjalmar asks "Your name isn't known here and according to the harbor you just appeared out of thin air. What's up with that?"

"Long story short, I was fighting a very dangerous man then my body began to fade." Hoen began "Next thing you know I'm quite above the water and fall in."

"Where you from anyway?" Olvir asks

"A place called Skyrim." Hoen answered "You all are similar enough to the populace there when it comes to culture. When it comes to physical appearance though, most are blonde hair and blue eyes."

"So, Skyrim? What's it like there?" Hjalmar asks

"Cold, dangerous, nationalistic and several different kinds of drunk." Hoen answered

"So are there Jarls or Kings in Skyrim?" Hjalmar asked again

"Jarls. Each Jarl runs one out of the nine holds." Hoen answered "There's Whiterun Hold, Falkreth Hold, Hjaalmarch Hold, Eastmarch Hold, Haafingar Hold, The Rift, The Reach, Winter Hold and The Pale."

Silence on the ship became more apparent. The only thing heard were the winds howling as they push the ship. Some men take time by dragging their hands in the water as the boat go on.

"So, Hoen." Hjalmar said finally breaking the silence "What do you think about Skellige so far on what you've seen?"

"Not sure." Hoen answered "You all seem like good people. If I assumed that you were all like this I'd only have good things to say. But all the same, I'm not a naive little boy."

"So about your armor and weapons." Olvir comments "You make them yourself?"

"Most of it." Hoen answered "The sword I definitely did. I'm the only person who knows how to work with dragon bone in Skyrim." The men gained the same awestruck look as Hjalmar had awhile ago. The eyes of the crew were all stuck on it, all except for Osek who had to stay focused.

The wind began to pick up more. The sail is so arched that it could be a right-side-up hammock. The longboat is going faster than normal and they approach an incoming storm.

'Do my shouts still work?' Hoen thought to himself 'Only one way to find out' Hoen approaches the front end of the boat to confront the storm head on. He readied himself as the others became curious of what he is doing "**Lok Vah Koor!**" Hoen shouted. The storm above began to disappear, the clouds dispersed into several different directions and the rain died out faster than they appeared.

They were starrring at the man who had just stopped a storm. It is as if he were a god, or at least god sent.

"Hoen." Hjalmar called "How did you do that?"

"I shouted." Hoen plainly responds

"What does that mean?" Hjalmar asked

"It's weird. I'll explain it to you at a later date. In the meantime, I believe I see something." Hoen says

"Nilfgaardian ship ahead!" Olvir shouted

"Alright men! Ready yourselves! We board as soon as we get the chance!" Hjalmar shouted

The boat went full speed ahead. A war horn was sounded, alerting the Nilfgaardian's of their presence. Little time passed when the entire broadside of the ship was glowing a red-orange shade. Soon the shade fired upwards towards the longboat, sending a rain of fire down upon them.

The ship went through head on, coming out moderately damaged. The sails were torn and two sailors lie dead on the deck. Wind had acted in the Skelligers' favor and crashed them into the ship.

They adjusted the positioning of their boat and tossed hooks on the railing, pulling themselves up. The boat was lifted from the water and the crew boarded the boat.

Swords clashed and swung at mad speeds. The Nilfgaardians outnumbered the invaders by a landslide. The sea raiders cared not about this. They fought with fury and pushed back wave after wave of enemy.

Hoen's axe swung as light as air, cleaving through many soldiers at once. Armor did not exist to his axe. Just metal clothes that broke easily.

Eventually the Nilfgaardians were equal to their invaders. They accepted defeat and dropped to their knees. Footsteps were heard behind the raiders. It was running. They turned to see a boy no older than 16 running towards Hjalmar with a short sword in hand. He thrusts towards the An Craite, missing terribly. He lost his balance and fell flat on his face. The boy's clothes spoke nobility to the men.

"Nice try." Hjalmar laughed "Now leave us be."

"Die filth!" The boy shouted. He picked the sword back up and made an attempt to swing at another, yet his wrist was caught by Olvir

"Your being a nuisance boy." Olvir irritably spoke "Hjalmar may be being generous today, but I'm only letting you go once."

Hoen laughed a bit "The child is amusing slightly. Yet all the same he'll get in the way."

"Hoen, why don't you take care of the lad." Hjalmar suggested

"Alright then." Hoen agreed "Draw your blade boy. I want to see if you're truly worth killing."

The child picked his blade off the floor once more. He nervously starred at Hoen, his body shivering in fear. Hoen stuck towards the boy with the back of his axe, not allowing the head to touch him. The boy was laying on the ground in defeat. Even after one hit he could no longer stand.

"You're a waste of time." Hoen pitifully says "Begone with you."

"You're not going to kill him?" Hjalmar asked

"He's weak, a waste of time. Not worth fighting." Hoen was quite disappointed and hoped for a fight. Even when he did get one, it wasn't what he expected.

"Alright then. Lads! Take anything that isn't nailed down!" Hjalmar ordered

They sweeped the upper and lower decks. The captain's cabin was filled with documents and coin. The noble's quarters filled even more with coin and valuables, with gems decorating the shelves all ready for taking. One thing Hoen came across was a simple chair in the eyes of others, to him however, it was a masterpiece.

"You want to take a chair?" Osek questioned

"I _need _to take _that_ chair." Hoen corrected

Hjalmar and the others were just as confused as the others "It's a chair. They were meant to be sat on."

"Only if you all had the same artistic outlook on as I do." Hoen responded

"What's that mean?" Olvir asked

"Look at it! The wood had been finely carved. The cushion weaved more carefully than anything I've seen, in all

of it's ruby colored splendor. And the bases of the legs have been dressed in gold. Why wouldn't I want it!" Hoen excitedly explained

"Alright, now that you've explained it I can see why it would be important." Hjalmar reasoned "You plan on selling it don't you?"

"To anyone willing to buy." Hoen replied

The men loaded the chair into the longboat and prepared to set sail. Then again, they heard a loud war cry from the boy behind them. He took a swing at Osek, to which Osek side stepped out of the way and let the boy fall just like the last time. They were all tired of the boy and his antics, trying to be a hero when he could not. Yes, they admired the boy's courage and tenacity, but he was being a nuisance and was getting in their way.

"Tie the lad down to something." Hjalmar instructed. The men found a spare rope around the main deck, using it to tie the boy to a mast. They would have killed him by now if he wasn't so pathetic.

With the child tied to something they could finally set off. His crying and screaming could be heard for miles on end, even as they left the ship. Not a man had any peace and quiet until they were at least 70ft away from the ship.

When they got out of earshot of the kid they could admire their gold and treasure. Hjalmar had taken a liking to the chair and joked about Hoen selling it to him.

The journey was long, yet peaceful. Everyone enjoyed themselves with an exception for the boy, but everything was well.

**A/N Finished. I hoped you enjoyed it and I would love to know what you think about it so far. I'm enjoying it so far and may try my hand at a third project, yet I'm not sure about it.**

**Other than that, have a great time with life and you have my thanks for reading this far.**


	3. Funeral

**I'm back and ready for more of this shit. I'm enjoying it so far, I hope you are to. I know I'm still getting in the flow of things, because I'm lazy as shit and like to take forever to get things out (from my perspective at least) and it leaves me rusty on doing things. So if you see this, the start date is April, 27, and the release date will be down below (to prove a point if I'm right. If I'm wrong, damn me to hell)**

Things back at Kaer Trolde are oddly quiet as all things are. Hoen had just arrived back yesterday and met an odd guest. Her raven black hair caught his attention slightly, but her violet colored eyes caught his attention. They had no interaction, yet exchanged curious looks.

The walk to Kaer Trolde was as average as ever. Guards watching over and beyond the bridge, besides the ones posted at port. The group parted ways, Hoen and Hjalmar going to the keep, Osek and the others going to the tavern.

Once at Kaer Trolde, Hoen and Hjalmar were met with Crach alone with Bran nowhere to be seen. Crach in all of his plump joyful state walked up to them with the happiest smile ever. "Hjalmar!" Crach cheered "How'd it go?"

"It was amazing." Hjalmar answered "When we was 'bout to head into a storm, Hoen stood at the front of the boat and parted it with his voice alone!"

Crach shifted his head towards Hoen in a oddly curious gaze "Well then. I guess we'll have to figure out a special position for you."

"If you don't mind me asking, where's Bran?" Asked Hjalmar

"Him?" Crach said "Well his time is near and he didn't want to lay down in bed and die. So he took a knife and went off to fight." Crach explained

"How long ago did he leave?" Hoen asked

"Not long after you two did." Crach answered

"Well I guess I'll head down to the harbor for a bit." Hoen said "I need alcohol."

"For what?" Hjalmar asked

"For everything." Hoen replied

Some time later

The tavern was packed with rowdy drunks. Everyone is wasted or almost to that level. Hoen was near drunk, so much so to the point he could almost see double.

In the crowd he can see his two other companions from the raid; Olvir and Osek. They weren't able to spot him though. It was a bit too crowded for that.

"I'm getting claustrophobic in here. I need some air." Hoen comments

He pushed through the hordes of drunken men to reach the door. When he finally got outside the world was reaching its rest. The sky is black with glowing lights dotted all across it.

The moon stood in lone position. No companion to accompany it. "Heh. One moon." Hoen chuckled "What's next, Dwarves and Gnomes?"

"You'd be surprised." Said a feminine voice close by

Hoen looked at the small wooden bridge close by. A raven haired woman with eyes of lilac approached him; her skin, fair like snow, a dress of blackened material with a crow feathers as her collar. "You would be, Hoen, correct?" She asked in a polite tone

"Yes, that's me." Hoen responded "Would you mind telling me your name?"

"Yennefer of Vengerberg." She introduced

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, miss. Do you need something of me?" Hoen asked

"Actually I do." Yennefer said "Have you seen an ashen haired woman; green eyes and a scar on her left cheek?"

"Sorry." Hoen responded "Can't say I can recall seeing someone like that around here."

Yennefer let out a saddened sigh "It was worth a try. Anyway, there was another reason I came to talk to you."

Hoen lifted his eyebrows "And that would be what exactly?"

"As far as I know, you aren't native to Skellige." Yennefer said "Tales of a man who resembles you, and goes by the name, Hoen, fell into the water not too long ago."

"Aye." Hoen said plainly "That would be me."

"If I may ask, what were you doing before then?" Yennefer requested

"I was about to die." Hoen responded "A sword straight through me but I wasn't bleeding."

"And then poof. Just like that you're in Skellige?" Yennefer questions

"It was more of a slower process. Fading more like it." Hoen responded

"May I ask you more questions?" Yennefer said

"Maybe at a later date. You see, I'm tired and need sleep." Hoen replied

"Maybe a few more?" Yennefer pleaded

"No. Now good day." Hoen said as he left for the keep

"Did it hurt?" Yennefer pressed even further

"Bye now." Hoen ended

'I'm starting to sound like Keira Metz' she thought to herself

Next Morning

The sun covered the sky in a bright beautiful haze. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks soothed Hoen's mind. And not even four seconds later does Hjalmar wake Hoen up at an ungodly time of day.

"Wake up." Hjalmar instructed

"Wha? No, I sleep more." Hoen groggily replies

"Come on, Da needs us to help find Bran." Hjalmar said back

"He should be fine." Hoen said in dizzy state

"Bran?" Hjalmar asked

"I honestly don't know." Hoen answered "I honestly can't think straight when you wake me up this early."

"You comin' or not?" Hjalmar said plainly "My Da is waintin outside the Harbor"

"You say that as I have much of a choice." Hoen responds

They march out of the keep in an uncoordinated form. Hjalmar more joyous than ever and Hoen completely tired out of his mind.

The sun so bright that Hoen couldn't help but to block it from his tired eyes.

As they reach the outside of the gate, Crach is standing right outside them, soaking in the morning sun's rays. "Good morning you two"

"Hello Da." Hjalmar said happily

"I want to go back to sleep." Responded Hoen, ruining the joyful moment

"I can see that. Well we need to find Bran. It's been awhile and we would have seen him back by now." Crach explained

"Just.. lead the way." Hoen irritably spoke

They left behind Kaer Trolde to go look for their missing Jarl. Many hours passed in their search; visiting as many villages that may have seen the High King.

They soon abandoned the roads for the forests, encountering nekkers, wolves and bears. Little time had gone by as they found a body laying in the middle of the woods with a bear sitting next to it.

"Is that Bran?" Hoen lazily asked

"Looks like it." Crach said "Round, large, grey hair, light armor. It has to be."

"How are we going to get past the bear?" Hjalmar asked

"Lemme try something." Hoen said as he dismounted his horse.

Approaching the bear at a slow and tired monotonous pace, he showed no signs of fear in his steps. The closer he got, the more territorial the bear would get. An a last attempt to get Hoen to leave, the bear stood on its hind legs and roared at him.

"Stupid animal. I only want the body." Hoen spoke. He tried to reach for Bran's hand only for the bear to snap at him "Piece of shit. **Raan Mir Tah.**" The bear seemed to calm down more. A peaceful green aura covered the animal. The father and son were standing in an odd form of shock. At least Hoen proved his claim of being a magic weirder twice now.

Hoen grabbed the heavy Jarl and put him on his horse "Can you two lead the horse back? I have something better."

"Don't tell me you gonna ride the bear." Crach said

"I'm riding the bear." Hoen responded "I'm tired and it's back is like a bed."

"Alright then" Crach Hesitantly agreed

The three rode back to Kaer Trolde with Hoen asleep on the back of a bear. Upon arrival, the harbor saw Crach and Hjalmar ride through the gates. Hoen was right behind them on a bear.

The high king's dead body on the back of a horse. Everyone saw him with the marks of a bear etched across his back and sides. Hjalmar held up Bran's knife, which he used to fight the bear in his last moments. They hung their heads in grief, and in happiness. Happiness, that their high king, Bran, died in glorious battle with a beast equal to his nature.

Hoen had finally awoken from his long and comforting slumber. Greeted by the heads of weeping harbor-men.

A boat was soon readied for a funeral at sea. Plain and empty, made of oak, a small messy platform made from wooden logs in the middle to display the once great man layed down on his sheild.

Kaer Trolde

"Hjalmar." Crach called "Grab Bran's sword."

"Already did." Hjalmar responded, brandishing Bran's sword for his father to see

"Hoen, do you think you could bring that chest down to the boat?" Crach requested

"Absolutely." Hoen answered as he lifted the chest

Hoen walked out of the room and down the stairs. His grip on the chest was waning for his fingers could not stay in place for too long. They eventually slipped and Hoen dropped the chest, spilling some of its contents.

While picking up his mess a young red headed woman came from down the hall. Her kept in a single massive braid that lies across her shoulder. Her head just in the middle of Hoen's shoulder. "Do you need help with that?" She teasingly asks

"Seems like I need help with everything." Hoen complained

"So is that a yes?" She asked

"Sure." Hoen responded "Go right ahead."

Within a matter of minutes the chest's contents were all put back. The two exchanged names and went their separate ways.

Some time later

The boat was set and ready. The archer set with a burning arrow, the gold in place and Bran's sword on his chest and his treasures at his feet. A new face was in the harbor. A very notable face to Hoen. White hair, scarred face, eyes like a viper. Hoen payed more mind to the funeral though. He may not have known the man for long, but he only saw the side of good in Bran.

The boat was pushed out to sea and the flaming arrow sent flying towards the boat. As the boat was lit ablaze a young woman had apparently snuck aboard. She must have done so at the near beginning of the preparations. She was trapped in a wall of fire, nowhere to escape to. She was doomed to die.

"Probably one of Bran's lovers." A mistress in nobles clothing spitefully commented

'Well at least I know he wasn't all that honorable' Hoen thought

The boat burnt down and sunk in the far ocean, the light going out in a flash as it hits the water. The gold and jewels sunk down with the boat, as well as the sneaky lover.

The event ended shortly later. Hoen made his way back to the keep with the other dwellers of Kaer Trolde. The day ended there for most. Some went to the tavern to drown their sorrows and others went home to do whatever it is they do.

**A/N May, 11. That's how long it took me to write, revise and fix grammatical errors in this story of mine. I don't know about you guys, but that's a lot of time for me. This is also not including the amount of time it took me to actually start the chapter. I actually almost forgot I had an account on this site before I got an email about a follower on another story of mine. Seriously, I sometimes neglect my stories and take forever to start a chapter on them (from my perspective at least) but I don't know about you all, I just feel like I take forever.**


	4. Never Fall Asleep First

**So this is gonna be the last chapter for awhile as I take a short break for a bit. I'm kinda getting bored of writing these and just finished up Finals so I need some time off. It won't be long so don't worry about me disappearing for half a year or anything like that. At the same time I'm not just gonna leave you all alone like this, so I'm gonna do my best to make an adequate chapter. **

The reception for the funeral was held in Kaer Trolde. Political heads from all of the archipelago were present in the great hall. Men and women from Spikeroog and An Skellig alike all present to witness those who which to take over as high king.

Hoen had just sat alone near the door, for he had not yet learned his place in the keep. There was also the question of wether or not he would even decide to stay in Skellige until he could find a way back home.

The room was filled with joy and laughter. Quite odd seeing how they had just finished a funeral not even 7 hours ago. Drinks were raised in good spirit and many other's told stories of their adventures.

When Crach an Craite approached the center of the hall, an announcement was ready to be made "Attention everyone! Upon the death of the once great king, Bran, a successor must take his place. All those who believe themselves worthy of the title "High King", come forth and place your weapons at the table." Many men came forward and placed various swords and axes on the small table, even Hjalmar came to lay down his axe. Then came Cerys, brandishing her knife and tossing it on the pile of other weapons. Everyone gazed at the action with their eyes glued to the girl. For she was hopeful and courageous, not a soul believed in the outcome Cerys wished for.

Hoen's mind was void of any thought as he sat alone, not even noticing Cerys place her blade at the table. The sweet sound of nothingness taking him over, yet his eyes still open. A slightly familiar face approached him, one he thought he'd only see once. White hair, vipers eyes, wolf's head medallion and two swords on his back. Moving his head upward, Hoen cautiously eyes the man who approached him, not wanting to start a fight for no reason.

"Who may you be?" Hoen asked carefully

"It's Geralt. Now if I may ask the same of you?" Geralt politely asked

"Hoen." The other responded plainly. Hoen's original intention was to be left alone, far from the mouths of others who are now back to downing alcohol. He went back to to his void train of thought where nothing took place.

Geralt sat down next to him and went to the same train of thought as Hoen did, staying silent from there on. "You ever play Gwent?" Geralt asked, breaking the peaceful silence

"Never heard of it." Hoen responded with his interests piqued slightly "Is this a board game, or maybe cards?"

"It's cards, you interested in playing?" Geralt asked

Hoen stared at the crowd as he has nothing more to do than stare blankly at nothing. After little consideration and having something to do he accepted "Sure" He answered "How do you play?"

Geralt went over the basics for a few minutes before the game went on. Explaining each rule with weather cards and hero cards was easiest to him, yet every thing else came with just ever so slight confusion. All the same, it was quite easy explaining everything to Hoen as the rules weren't all too complicated. Geralt lended Hoen some cards and the game began.

The game went on casually as more and more men went completely mad with their alcohol, downing any and all they had coming. People fought with brawn while Hoen and Geralt fought with brain.

The game to a near close as the black haired woman approached Geralt and dragged him off to the door near the back. Hoen at this point, just set the cards down and gave up his ability to be left alone. The alcohol was calling him. Hoen joined the crowd in partook in their merriment.

Noticing the lack of alcohol in his cup, he shifted his head in multiple directions searching for the barrels full of it. One cup was enough for him to want more, and when he couldn't find more it landed him in the chill for more than a few days. He wandered himself around and about the main hall waiting to discover barrels or maybe even a small cup of ale or wine. Yet every cup he found alone was empty.

With his vision at this point quadrupled, he was able to waddle his way over to a group of men. The small table of men was filled with warriors, one of which included Hjalmar. The jarl's son gave nothing but praise to Hoen upon the man's arrival, catching the ears of anyone close enough to listen. The talking devolved into more brutish acts, some of which came into one on one fist fights which all ended in a laugh.

The group shared stories of adventures and combat, bringing new found life to the table- not that it wasn't lively before. Hjalmar shared tales of the raid that he won't shut up about. Yet Hoen shared more odd tales. Hoen shared tales of ancient ruins and crypts. His explorations of these crypts. Even ash filled lands with dark skinned elves. His most elaborate and unbelievable stories involved dealings with god like beings or the destruction of an entire vampire clan with a small group of barely organized vampire hunters.

"There's no way you ever killed a vampire, Hoen." Hjalmar said in a drunken slur

"Don't believe me?" Hoen questioned "What can I do to make you believe me?"

Hjalmar laughed slightly "Like I'd know? But the old ancient ruins, those are stories I'd like to hear, mind givin us one?"

Hoen took another drink of ale as his thirst for alcohol had now been relieved with another mug. His words were slurred, but not enough to be misheard "Well if it's a story you want it's a story you'll get. It all starts in a city called, Riften. The entire city is a home for the criminal underworld itself, but that's a whole different thing entirely." Hoen explained his tale began with his first introduction with Mjoll and her story of losing a sword. A few more drinks and a whole lot more banter, the climax was reached, describing the events of a broken rib cage. "One of its swings landed right here." Hoen said as he pointed towards his top left bones of his ribs "It knocked my off the ledge and I broke the rest on the way down. Realizing I would die if I stayed too long, I made my way out with the sword strapped to my back." Hoen said as the ending began. His trip back to riften was a painful and long one, but it was worth it in the end.

"What happened next?" One of them asked

"For the next few hours I was just wandering around the city doing nothing." Hoen responded plainly before picking up a more cheerful and drunk tone "The night however ended in what I assumed was one last shot before going black and I ended up next to her in bed. I have no recollection of the events preceding that."

Hjalmar laughed so hard that his lungs were bursting out of his ribs "That is probably one of the most believable, yet hilariously painful stories I've heard from you."

"How is my pain funny?" Hoen jested

"I don't know." Hjalmar laughed even more. As the laughing died down, Hjalmar had just realized how much he had to drink and decided to head for his room. Leaving behind Hoen with a bunch of meat headed warriors was a mystery in itself to unfold.

As the night prolonged, his mysterious visitor with the white hair had finally showed up. They merely ignored each other while also acknowledging each other's existence while at the reception.

Cerys was in bed. Hoen, with one more sip, seeing even more forms of double vision than before couldn't handle the intense drinking anymore. Falling down drunk from all the forms of alcohol he ingested that night had left him completely unconscious, yet every single man there had to admire the strength of his liver.

A group of men gathered around him and thought of a plan, and they would have fun that night. One of them went to see if Hjalmar was still awake, thankfully he was more sober than before. Hjalmar was awake enough to remember what he was about to do and agreed whole heartedly. Crach noticed the group of men and his son crowding around Hoen's body and lifting his body. He followed them upstairs and to Cerys' room where she was sound asleep. Before entering her room, they stripped him of his armor and got him down to his loin cloth. Crach noticed this and shook his head in a confusing state of either pity for Hoen, or disappointment that Hjalmar would even consider doing this to his sister. But he couldn't blame a drunk man trying to mess with someone he considered a friend. Although he couldn't tell if Hoen thought the same of Hjalmar. Crach at first was hesitant to let this happen, yet even he was a slight bit tipsy to make the full decision.

One of three men quietly open the door to Cerys' room, not even a creak to be heard. As they maneuver around the other side of the bed, they lay Hoen beside the girl who is undisturbed in peaceful slumber. Quickly and quietly leaving the scene they had created, Hoen is still and just as peaceful in sleep.

The door closes and the four are left to laugh at the Dragonborn's misfortune. Hjalmar feels slightly bad about what he's done to the two, but not bad enough to undo what he had just done.

The night falls silent. Everyone had retreated indoors for the night for a warm bed and home to sleep in.

Next Morning

As Hoen arises from his rest, unfamiliar walls surround him. The hangover hit him hard. Even then, the noise of breathing next to him was enough to grab his attention. He slowly turned his head in curiosity only for a face of fright to show next. He carefully got out of bed and scanned the room for his armor where he found nothing.

Not making a sound, he attempted to make his way to the door without waking her up. He knew very well who she was and did not want to get in trouble for whatever he may have possibly done. This was in vain, as he had accidentally kicked the foot of the bed, causing pain for him and noise for Cerys. She grunted slightly and shifted her position to where Hoen once laid.

As the pain died down, he made his way to the door and started to open it. He looked back to notice that Cerys was waking up. Hoen rushes out of the room and grabbed his armor along the way. The chest plate and helmet came first while he ran with his boots and gauntlets in hand.

He passed Crach who had shaken his head at the events prior. Hoen finally had found a place to put on his armor in privacy and away from prying eyes.

Never would he speak of this night to anyone, and not once would he bring it up. What he may have done is unknown, but the last thing he wants is to find is Cerys bearing a child. Sofie was one thing, but a newborn baby is something completely different. At least now she was 17. Hoen didn't have to worry about taking care of her anymore, yet she was still his daughter by any and all technicalities.

Life is hell right now for Hoen. And who knows how it will end up down the line.

**A/N Alright, you read the first note so need to go over it again. Now with these last few chapters, I may or may not be foreshadowing. I'm not sure, I haven't made up my mind yet. Probably not, but I never know and neither do you. **

**By the way, I read your suggestions, and to the guy who wants a Dragonborn and Cerys romance, I've been thinking about it before the second chapter was a thing and I will continue to think about it until the time comes. **


	5. The Wolf and the Storm

**Welcome back. I hope you have a wonderful time reading.**

The day had just begun. Strapped in armor and lost memories of the night prior, he had left for the wilderness. Earlier that morning he had heard something about Yennefer stealing some sort of mask. Not too sure if he should care he forced the thoughts in the back of his head.

The forest was dense with trees and shrubbery. The occasional bear or wolf encounter was common, yet distance was kept from both parties. His head constantly faced toward the peak of Ard Skellig, he never backed away. The only moment he took pause was his arrival at a lumber mill which was seemingly abandoned.

His attention had been grabbed by the decrepit old buildings and the overgrowth on the walls. Snooping around the place he had found more than one interesting things. Swords, armor, axes and jewels in old chests that had been strung around the site. The bigger thing would be the bones of dead men.

The clopping of hooves was heard in the distance. Turning around, Hoen had seen an oak brown horse with a familiar face riding atop it. "It seems like this is going to be a common occurrence." Hoen said aloud to himself.

Geralt had stopped at Hoen's feet, nearly stomping the man into the ground. "Hey!" Geralt quickly shouted to his horse while pulling on its reins. "I remember you." The Witcher had announced towards Hoen

"So do I." Hoen responded. "What brings you out here all of a sudden?"

"I'm supposed to meet Yen near a magical cataclysm." Answered Geralt.

Sitting down and grabbing a small green vile, Hoen said "Magical cataclysm?" Hoen questioned while taking a small sip of the alcoholic liquid and puckering his face "What the fuck is that?"

"You do know that's an alchemy ingredient, right?" Geralt asked

The nord looked at the vile in all angles with a confused face "Really?" Hoen realized "Smells like alcohol."

"As to your question." Geralt got to "I really don't know what a magical cataclysm is, you'll have to ask Yennefer."

Hoen swigged another gulp of the alcohest "So like I asked earlier, what are you doing so far out here?"

"I figured she could wait." Geralt answered "Decided to go off road, see what I could find."

"Well you'll not find anything here but run down buildings and old bones." Hoen answered

Geralt took notice of his surroundings and ignored the ambiance around him. "Wanna take a look around?" Geralt asked

"Got nothing better to do." Hoen answered

Working together and separate they scoured the surrounding area finding nothing but rotting wood and broken houses. It almost seemed empty, if not for a looming presence that never left. It did nothing but watch, staying in the never ending background. Crows and their constant cawing always sounded like warnings, or even threats. What they wanted was a mystery indeed.

Wandering over to the bones, the pair observed their features and details. "Let's see." Geralt started in a kneeling position.

Before Geralt could begin, Hoen interrupted his thought process. "Those two were male, the one left of them is female." He pointed out. Geralt turned around to see Hoen take another drink of alchohest "Would you stop drinking that?" He complained "There's barely any alcohol in there, it's mostly chemicals."

"Barely is enough for me." Hoen replied back

"In fact, if I can remember so there is so little alcohol in there that it could kill a normal human if they drank to much of it." Geralt finished

"Well Good think I'm not normal." Hoen groggily answered while swallowing more of the liquid

Geralt in a state of annoyance swiped the alchemy ingredient from Hoen's hand before he could drink more "Yeah, I'd say that enough myself." Geralt said regarding the alchohest "So how can you tell the sex of the victims so quickly?"

"I've spent enough time in crypts and dungeons to tell." Hoen answered "The shape of the skull and the concave shape of their chests is the only way I can tell."

Geralt observed closer at the bones and gained a surprised look on his face "Well it seems you're right." Geralt said

"Told you." Hoen semi-drunkenly responded "So wha- what the hell is that?!" Hoen shouted while his sword arm had started getting ready.

Geralt looked to his side to see a leshen standing not even eight feet away from him. It's deer skull head peered into Geralt's soul with its non-existent eyes. It slammed its palms to the ground, forcing an uproar of roots out of the dirt. Geralt had dodged its movements and Hoen charged in recklessly at the beast. The carved bone of a dragon had burned through the leshen's arm with its immense heat, but only got to its middle. Geralt readied his strike on the monster and hit blows with its damaged arm, but damaged Hoen as well.

He backed away from the fight to sit down while Geralt finished the fight. He released the pressure from his sword arm causing blood to pool out in small portions. While Geralt had dealt he final blows to the beast, Hoen had put pressure back on his wound.

The leshen had fallen down to ash and Geralt had run over to Hoen "You okay?" Geralt asked

"Watch where you swing." Hoen said back

"Remove your hand." He ordered. Geralt had stared at the wound. "That's gonna need to be bandaged."

Geralt reached for a bandaged from one of his pouches. Pulling it out, Geralt wrapped it around the wound on Hoen's arm.

The blood from the wound had soaked into white cloth around Hoen's arm. "Do you just carry these things on you for these specific occasions?" Hoen asked Geralt

"Usually when I run out of swallow." Geralt answered

Hoen chuckled a bit and Geralt stayed with him till the bleeding calmed down. Soon, Geralt went to meet with Yennefer and Hoen went on to the mountain tops.

Geralt and Yennefer,

Waiting at the edge of a cliff with a mask in hand, Yennefer impatiently taps her foot. It had been at least an hour and still no Geralt. About ready to go down in the pit herself, Geralt had finally showed. "You're late." Yen immediately responded "Take this mask and go down there. I'll guide you through."

Without a word, Geralt had taken the mask as instructed and went down the cliff. Arriving at the first site, Geralt had put on the mask as a rain storm followed his action. Pushing through the crashing lightning and heavy winds, Geralt made it through the first site.

Following the specter of Ciri and her friend, Geralt had made his way to the second site. Warriors of the Wild Hunt lay incinerated in their armor and the battle that killed them holographed for the raven and wolf to see.

As trees fall around them, the thunder comes down with them. Forcing Geralt backwards and sideways they slow him in his next arrival. The final stop had been reached. More slaying of elven wraiths had occurred with another vaporized in his armor. Ciri had also hit her final destination. Sent hurling through a portal, the young girl had pushed her to a destination unknown:

His mission had ended. He was to meet the sorceress, Yennefer in the middle of the site. Once meeting her, the druids were pushing back the storm caused by the mask. Finally calmed, the cheif druid spoke up "Do you know what could have happened!?"

"It was just a small storm." Yennefer interjected "Nothing you couldn't have handled."

Infuriated the cheif Druid yelled "That storm was stronger than I expected! It could have swallowed the entire archipelago!"

"Please." Yennefer responder "It wasn't that bad. While violent, yes, nothing that couldn't be contained." Yennefer walked away then. Leaving behind a Druid and a stunned Geralt, she went back to her temporary residence in the form of a portal.

Geralt soon followed her on the back of Roach. Both had left and one with a mark on their back.

Hoen, same time as Geralt and Yennefer

Reaching the mountain top he had finally found quiet. On his knees, fingers curled and neck cocked back, his focus shifted on the ancient power within him. A deep connection with a word had hypnotized him. Strun was this word. Strun he had strengthened.

Rising on his feet, Hoen gained power he felt before once. Opening his mouth and roaring the words had swirled a mass above him. "**Strun, bah qo!**" He had cried, a call to nature to grant him power.

Admiring his work, he had stared at the dark clouds. The rain falling down, the lightning crashing down. All of it was beautiful.

Climbing down the mountain, he had found druids attempting to calm the storm. Ignoring them and laughing in his mind, he had made his way back to Kaer Trolde. Wading through the mud was a task that proved irritating indeed. His heavy metal boots soaking up the wet dirt would be a hassle to clean for him.

Upon reaching Kaer Trolde his storm had stopped. It had lasted longer than he thought. Maybe those druids did the opposite of what they intended, or he was possibly just that strong. He pondered on it awhile until wine was in his sight. His thoughts were pushed in the back of his head for the alcohol did the effort for him.

Later that day

Hjalmar and Folan were walking down the halls to see a sleeping Hoen in a chair with a single barrel of wine sat next to him. "You're slacking, Hoen." Hjalmar had laughed at the sight, and Folan caught on quickly after.

The two had cleaned up Hoen's mess so he'd not get in trouble the for the next day to come. Hoen should be expecting the usual to come. Maybe a guest or two, but no more than the hall can exceed.

With the barrel tossed from the balcony and newly cleaned mugs, everything was prepared for the second time today. Now that things are settled Hjalmar and Folan went to the harbor for who knows what. The boy is expected to be at the feast so no fun stuff. How boring the afternoon would be for him that day.

**A/N If it felt slightly rushed in this chapter im sorry, I'm being real patient with this and doing my best to not rush through. I do hope you are doing well and enjoying what I put out. **

**Anyway, I hope to see you in the next chapter. Have a wonderful day/night/morning/whatever and enjoy life while you can.**


	6. Cave of Dreams

**Nothing to mention here. Let's just go.**

The main hall is barely full of others. The jarls of Skellige are all present, yet most of their offspring is off somewhere else. The wine barrels full, and mugs not as much.

Hoen had begun to wander about the room greeting warriors from all across the isles. Hjalmar was alongside his father with the other jarls as they spoke of their sons. "So Lugos." Crach said "Where's Blueboy? Should he not be here?"

"Damn that kid." Lugos spoke"He's gone to the cave of dreams. Thinks he can prove something there."

"That's quite harsh to say bout your own son. Isn't it?" Crach asked

"Course it is." Lugos irritably responded "I just don't think he's ready for that yet, at least not on his own. Speaking missing children, where might your Cerys be?"

With a sigh, Crach explained "As you know, Udalryk isn't here. Cerys thought she could help him."

"Foolish girl." Lugos laughed "The man's gone mad. No saving him now."

"I'll get Geralt to go get her, as for your son?" Crach said while pausing to think "Hoen!" Crach called in a moment of clarity.

Responding to Crach's call, Hoen slowly rushed towards the man with a curious face. "You called" Hoen responded

"Yes, this here is jarl Madman Lugos of clan Drummond" Crach introduced "His son has gone to the cave of dreams on the southern half of the island, your to go help him."

"Why me?" Hoen asked "You have many soldiers that could go and help him right now."

"Because surprisingly, you're the only one sober enough to follow orders correctly at the moment." Crach explained "So go."

Complying with orders, Hoen went to southern part of the isle with no more questions. Over the bridge and through the gate, Hoen found his way to the first village with the realization he forgot to ask for directions.

It was night. No one was outside and the only noise heard was the wind howling through the moonlit sky.

5 hours later, Southern half of the isle

"Excuse me." Hoen said to a stranger "Where could I find the cave of dreams?"

"Not far honestly." The stranger pointed out "Just keep headed west till you see Blueboy's boat docked on shore."

Hoen thanked the stranger and headed west of his current location. Walking calmly on the shores of An Skellig, the night sky took hold of his attention. The stars glowing like lit candles, the moon waning rightward, the sky as dark as a cave. The sound of the ocean beating against the soft sand stole Hoen's ears with relaxation as a wave of calm passed over him.

He would have almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing if not for the beached long boat. A small crew of men seen aboard the boat with two on guard at a small ramp.

Striding towards the boat with light steps in his metal boots, Hoen approached one of the men on guard.

"Stop right there." The man ordered

"Blueboy's father sent me." Hoen responded

"Oh." The guard responded "Lugos is right up there."

Walking his way up the ship, he greeted Lugos with a plain face.

"Who are you?" Lugos asked

"I'm Hoen." He dully responded "Your father wants me to help you with this cave of dreams thing you've got going on."

Lugos responded with a brash tone and stern manner "I don't need the help of a stranger to go with me. I'm fine without you."

"You seem sure of yourself." Hoen said back "Yet all the same I'm not one piss off a Jarl, so wether you like it or not, I'm coming."

"I'm doin this with me own." Lugos aggressively responded "I don't need help from strangers."

"Well you can either let me help you, or I'm dragging you back to the keep." Hoen responded, clearly frustrated with Lugos.

"I'd like to see you try." Lugos spoke while crossing his arms.

Angry and frustrated, Hoen responded "You're making this harder for the both of us, pick an option and go with it. If not I pick one for you."

"Fine, my da is likely to pitch a fit if I don't, so just come along and don't muck this up." Lugos hesitantly complies.

Grabbing two others to go along with him, Lugos approached the entrance of the cave where Hoen was patiently waiting. "Hoen, these are two of my best warriors, Jorulf the Wolverine and Uve Jabberjaw."

"So what can we expect in there?" Hoen asked

"When you get to the totem you eat some herbs and experience your worst fear imaginable." Lugos explained

"How fun." Hoen sarcastically responded as a chill overcame his body. He felt uneasy. Unnerved to say the least. His worst fears. Not even he could imagine what his worst fears are.

Venturing into the cave, they found the wooden totem that stands at the long puddle. Pulling out the herbs, Lugos disperses them around the group of four. Dizziness overpowered them, but dissipated soon after. Holographic images then began to take hold of their eyes only moments later, fixing their gazes upon them.

Adventuring through the cave, streams of blue glided across the roof of the cave. Whales flying without wings as they swim through the air. A most beautiful sight indeed.

Their first destination was just up ahead. A stage set for cheers as none other than Bran himself stood as the guest of honor. Part of the vision kept itself near Uve's jaw this time, to the curiosity of the party it definitely was.

Encroaching on the position of the crowd, they stood at attention of the once mighty High King who offered drink and song. In this moment of wonder, Uve cursed the dead king to the surprise of not only his friends, but himself as well.

The king stepped down from the stage, not before scorning Uve, and the audience drew their blades. The fight was uneven and far from fair, but in the end they managed just fine. Some cuts and bruises from here and there, still, everyone moves to their next destination.

Pushing through the cave, the streams of blue got more colorful as the walls were ever grey.

Their second sight had shown itself. A crashed ship with sea maidens sitting atop it. "What is that thing?" Hoen asked the group

"Sirens." Answered Jorulf.

The sirens turned to him and stared with deaths grip. "You are the one who killed your father." They hissed to Jorulf "It's all your fault." They screeched and laughed "You would not have crashed the ship if you didn't listen to our song."

Jorulf lashed out in a merciless rage at the sirens and his companions followed soon. With the fury of cold steel and burning bone, they charged inwards at the beasts and brought down their wrath. The nonexistent blood splattering across the sky and turning to nothing as the vision of the dispatched sirens faded.

"It's not your fault." Lugos said "It was an accident."

Jorulf could do nothing but sit in his sorrow. The guilt forever haunting him.

It was his fault. He listened to the siren song and his father is dead because of it. His father would still live if not for him. To Jorulf, this is his doing. He is responsible for his fathers death.

"Let's move on." Hoen recommended "We can talk about this shit when we get out."

The cave was straight now. No beautiful decoration lighting up the ceiling anymore. Just a dull, grey cave that expands from there on.

Far off in the distance a fire was lit. The closer they got, the clearer it was. A house lit ablaze, letting off a red orange hue.

"Would this be yours, Hoen?" Lugos asked

"Well I don't see a dragon, so I can't say for sure." Hoen answered with his axe drawn

Stepping forth from the fire was none other than the jarl of Clan Drummond himself. "Disappointment!" The specter yelled

"Da?" Lugos shivered

"You little shite!" The flaming elder Lugos shouted "When you were a child, lightning struck down a tree and you up and pissed yourself in front of the entire harbor!"

"I was a child." Blueboy pleaded "I was scared."

The jarl scoffed at the words of his son "Everyone watched and mocked you! You brought shame not just on yourself, but your clan as well!". Pulling his hammer from his back, he unleashed a flurry of attacks. The size of the simulation didn't help either. The man had to be two entire heads above Jorulf.

The match was long. Longer than the ones before it indeed, and there was only one man down to go. Everyone stared at Hoen in a curious gaze while attempting to catch their breath.

"You know, Lugos." Jorulf panted "I wonder what Hoen fears the most."

"I don't." Hoen said while gulping in air "Whatever it is I do fear the most, it might just kill all of us."

"Sounds fun" Lugos laughed

Hoen chuckled back "Really now? Then there's no time to waste, let's go."

Moving along with their adventure they went through the cave to their final destination. Hoen was last to go.

An atmosphere of ash consumed the cave around them. A vile black liquid squirmed around where puddles once were.

Once to their final destination, a pair of large doors stand in the middle of the cave. Once open, sitting atop a throne was a mirror image of the man who brought them here. Adorned in the bones of dragons, the great axe Ysgramor sitting at his side, was Hoen. His eyes glowing a horrendous green, his pupils slit like a squid's.

"Who are you." Hoen angrily questioned

His reflection left him unanswered. He just looked past him.

"What are you!?" Hoen shouted towards himself once more

"You." His mirror image answered "Join him, Hoen. The knowledge is endless."

"You fell to Mora's trap." Hoen reasoned

"No. You did." His image said back

"Why would I ever." Hoen responded

"Because I'm here." The reflection said with a smile

Stepping down from his throne, he grabbed the axe of Ysgramor and descended upon the party. Dashing without moving, his mirror image sped toward him. The axe's tip jammed straight into his eye.

Hoen fell down in pain. He clutched his eye that was no longer there. He peered his one good eye at his missing one that stands on the axe's spike.

Lugos ran forward to the image that stands afore them. He slashed at the demon, getting his axe stuck on the shoulder plate. A roar sent Lugos flying backwards towards the door.

Next came Uve. He came with a downward slash caught by Hoen's hand. His message back was a knee to his stomach. Being the hardy man he is, grabbed the vision's ankle and tripped it. Unpleased and angered by the act, the vision got on his feet and used one to crush the mute's head.

Then Jorulf, the one who stood in fear and over the beaten Hoen. Forced on his knee with a hand and kicked like a small pup.

"I don't fear you." Hoen said as stood on his feet

His vision laughed "Don't fool yourself. We're one in the same. You just need to accept your fall."

In one quick movement, Hoen dashed in a whirlwind and took his own head off. It was over. With his eye still gone, they fell to the floor and woke up at the start.

Hoen stared into the puddle. His eye was left unreturned.

"Shit." Hoen said to himself

"Could have been worse." Lugos said "We could have died."

"One of us did you dick." Jorulf said in response

"Let's just get out of here." Hoen suggested "I've seen enough."

7 hours later

Kaer trolde is now livelier then before. The jarls children finally in appearance. All but Cerys and young Lugos.

"How long does it take to explore a stupid cave." Hjalmar asked

"The cave of dreams isn't just a stupid cave." Crach retorted "It's much more dangerous than most other locations."

"Still, I don't see what's taking them so long." Hjalmar said

Not soon after, the doors of the keep opened up to a bandaged Hoen and a sulking Blueboy. Jorulf had followed them in quickly.

"Ehh, Hoen." Crach asked "What's with the bandage?"

"Short story, painful answer." Hoen quickly explained.

Hoen immediately headed for the barrels of wine stacked against the wall. Getting the largest mug in sight, he filled it to a point where the drink was spilling out. Once Cerys returned, the night was short and many slept on cold stone or the bed of an inn.

Hopefully the next day was better than this one. For whatever may come next, it couldn't be worse than this.

**A/N At the end here, it felt really poor as if I could do better. Now let me end this on the fact that I beg for reviews because it helps me improve on further chapters and stories. **

**I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, as for me, meh, not sure. Anyway, enjoy life and happy 4th of July to the American audience.**


	7. King’s Gambit

**Hey, I'm back. It's good to see you all after, what? A month? I don't think this is my best work, but it's not my worst. Enjoy.**

In a small candle lit dwelling carved into the bottom of a hill, Hoen sits in wait while his operator has left him for a fix to Hoen's problem.

"Will this do?" Asks a fairly tall man with graying brown hair

"Is this made of wood?" Hoen asks as he examined the false eye "Forget it, Gremist. I have friends back home who could magic me up an eye or some shit."

"You can't just use magic to replace your eye, Hoen." Gremist says as he shakes his head "Wether you like it or not, your stuck with this."

"I'm headed back to Kaer Trolde, I should have known this was a waste of time." Hoen said.

Today was supposed to be a big day after all. Today is the day the new high king of Skellige was announced.

Kaer Trolde

Unlike the previous few days, the hall was bustling with people. The sounds of voices echoing throughout the halls. In the far back we're Geralt and Yennefer doing gods know what.

"Hoen!" A familiar voice rang nearby

Turning himself to the voice, he saw none other than Blueboy himself. "Lugos, nice to see you."

"So, um, back at the cave." Lugos said before being cut off

"Can we leave that to the past, I don't want to relive that." Hoen asked

"I only want to ask a question." Blueboy responded

With a deep breath Hoen said "Go on and ask, but only one."

"When you uttered _Mora_, who were you talking about?" Lugos asked

"Do you truly want to know?" Hoen questioned

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise." Lugos irritably responded

Looking inward towards his thoughts, he began with the basics "To understand who Hermaeus Mora is, you first have to understand what a Daedric prince is."

"A what?" Lugos curiously responded

Hoen, with a deep sigh, began to explain to Blueboy about the plains of oblivion are. About the various creatures that reside there and the god-like beings that rule over their own respective plains.

After another few minutes of explaining, Hermaeus had drawn himself into the conversation. "Hermaeus Mora is another one of these princes. The lord of all knowledge which is forbidden."

"Please forgive me for this, but that sounds like bullshite." Lugos said plainly

"So does your religion to me." Hoen said in response "But you have to understand. I've seen him with my own eyes. I've heard his voice and seen his creatures."

Shaking his head, Lugos let Hoen off with a wave and rejoined the crowd. During mid walk the man froze in place. "You have something to say?" Hoen spoke as he took notice.

Lugos wielded no response. He just stood in place with his sight fixed on the crowd ahead of him. "Lugos?" Hoen called in annoyance

"He can't hear you." A voice said next him.

Shifting his head leftward, a man with a shaven head stands at his side. His brow just as brown as his eyes, and his skin pale like Hoen's. "Who are you?" Hoen asked "And what the hell happened."

"To answer your first question I'm a merchant of mirrors." The man softly spoke "As for your second question, me. That's what happened."

"Is this some sort of spell? Some sort of magic?" Hoen asked in confusion

"I look down on the very idea of magic." The strange calmly scorned

"Then What is this?" Hoen asked

"Not important." The stranger answered "What is important is you getting home."

Hoen gave the man an intrigued look "What would you know about that?" He asked

"More than you'd care to think." He said "But if you do indeed want my help, it won't be for free."

Hesitantly but firmly, Hoen extended a hand out to the stranger and extended his back to him. "Before we go on, you'll need this." The stranger said as he granted Hoen a scolding mark on the side of his face.

The rune seared itself on Hoen's face. Leaving a painful burn that had the nord peddle back and fall to the ground "What the fuck was that for!?" Hoen shouted in pain at the man.

"To ensure your commitment." The stranger spoke "And you can just call me O'Dimm."

As Hoen give a quick blink with his only eye, O'Dimm was gone and time was unpaused. Glaring at his surroundings, the man who spoke not even a minute ago was gone. Lugos was chugging a barrel of mead as if time was never paused in the first place. Almost as if nothing had happened.

Hoen had sat down at a nearby table, grasping the burn mark this plagues his already scarred face. Fading off into nothingness, Hoen hears a distinct roar of a bear from the corner of the room.

His guard raised with his blade drawn and shield up, he had faced the animal that had entered the room. "**Raan Mir Tah**!" He shouted. Yet nothing had happened.

The rest of the room had noticed the bears with the roar and had been taken to arms. Hoen had drawn first blood and warded the first two off from the guests. The other pair were left to slaughter the main hall.

Hearing the commotion from beyond the door, Geralt had rushed through the other side with Crach at his side to find the slaughter in the main hall. The last bear to be seen had Hjalmars sword dug through its neck.

Then to the side was, a poor child of one of the Jarls. The mans body held in the arms of his tearful father. "Hold on, everything will be fine. Someone, get a rag!"

"Da', it's okay." The young man spoke

"No, no, stay with me." The father pleaded "Halbjorn!"

"He's dead." Said Donar

The clan head of Drummond had placed blame on the An Craite's for the events that happened, including the death of the other claimants. Quickly without hesitation, the other clan heads had agreed to blame them.

Hjalmar was convinced that upon the death of the Vildkaarls that everything would be finished. His sister however saw different. Cerys believed that if they could find the ones responsible then the honor to their clan would be restored, as well as shifting the blame.

However fond of the An Craite son Geralt and Hoen may be, they had sided with his sister over him. Hjalmar grabbed his own companion and went off to slay the berserkers on with his followers.

Starting their investigation in the main hall, Geralt had observed the scars the bears had on their faces. "Berserkers." Cerys said

"Berserkers?" Hoen questioned "How are these animals Berserkers?"

"These aren't bears." Cerys explained "They're men who can transform into a Berserkers -a type of bear- in the heat of battle."

"Sounds like a form of lycanthropy." Hoen reasoned

"It pretty much is." Geralt said "Only in this instance these people willingly went through this."

Confused, Hoen responded "Don't all lycans become one willingly?"

"Some, not all." Geralt explained

"We're getting off track here." Cerys spoke up "We need to figure out who could of done this."

"I'm betting it was Svanrige." Hoen silently said to his current group "If not him maybe one of the other contestants."

"What makes you say that?" Geralt asked

Hoen replies "It's more of a gut feeling, but more importantly I overheard Birna speaking of reviving the hereditary monarchy." He explained "I wouldn't be surprised if she convinced him to go along with it."

"By that logic Birna would be the one pulling the strings." Crach quietly mentioned "Svanrige would just be the actor."

Back to their investigation, Geralt and Cerys headed towards the back while Hoen stayed behind with Crach.

Down to the cellar, Geralt lead the charge. Creeping slowly downward, the darkness got darker with each step. The only thing lightning their way were torches placed a long distance away from each other.

Finally reaching their last destination, the floor is covered in the barrel's ale and mead. The smell so potent that it may poison the nose of any Witcher.

"Look out!" Cerys yelled, pushing Geralt out of the torch's way. The room now lit like the sun, the pair are now surrounded in a wall of fire.

The path back closed by flame, another exit is shown by Cerys to the side. Rushing outward from the door, they had pursued the one who lit the room ablaze.

Down the castle walls they ran for the gate. Reaching the corner bend they were greeted to the steward mounting a horse and driving down the main keep.

Calling upon Roach, Geralt had followed his prey and left Cerys to greet Crach. Geralt had lashed on Roach's harness for maximum effort, and just barely catching up. Drawing his crossbow the Witcher had Aimed and locked target. Firing his first shot he narrowly missed his target, yet squared him right in the shoulder.

The steward had stumbled and fell from the back of his horse, scraping himself on the hard gravel pathway. "Get up" Said Geralt, standing above the man he knocked down.

Lifting his head, he is greeted to the white wolf. Grabbing his underarm, Geralt had dragged the poor man back up to Kaer Trolde where he may be judged.

"Why'd you do it?" Geralt asked impatiently

"I have nothing to say." Arnvold plainly spoke

Kaer Trolde

Near the room of Crach, Hoen had found himself scrounging around the halls in the back of the keep. After minutes of searching for hints, he had found himself upon a door that stand locked. Knocking on the door, he waited for a response, and never received one. Trying again, he waited once more. Still, he never received a response.

Kneeling eye level with the handle, he had gotten out a small box of lock picks he always kept on him. "Here we go." He says while readying himslelf.

Once a few minutes had passed, the door had finally opened. Pushing open the door, he had met with a tiny layout in a decent sized room. A small desk with parchment scattered about, a bed firmly tucked in, and familiar chair at the desk front. 'That's where it went' Hoen thought to himself "How'd you find yourself in here?" Hoen asked the object

Rushing down the halls, Cerys had soon an outward door left open. Turning around the corner, she had come to see Hoen standing over a prize from weeks ago. "Hoen, Geralt caught Arnvald."

"What's that mean?" He asked in confusion

"Well, it may turn out he knows something about what happened." Cerys told him

Walking out of the room, Hoen had followed Cerys to the main hall. Standing there were Geralt, Crach and Arnvald.

"So, you find anything out yet?" Hoen asked

"Nothing." Geralt responded "I used Axii and it still didn't help much."

Not exactly knowing what Axii is, Hoen asked and got a quick run down of the use "So what did he say?"

"We know it was Birna, but we have no proof." Geralt said

"I thought you said your hypnosis didn't help much?" Hoen said "That sounds pretty damn helpful."

"Like I said, we have no proof Birna did anything." Crach reminded Hoen

"Maybe we can get Arnvald to agree to say something?" Geralt suggested

"Wouldn't work." Hoen told Geralt "Arnvald is very close to the family and they would just dismiss anything he had to say that would lay off blame to the An Cráites'."

After hearing these words, Cerys had shifted her head towards Hoen "Or maybe you can."

"Excuse me?" Hoen asked in confusion

"Look, I'm not saying take the blame for Arnvald." Cerys explained "But you could say that she approached you and suggested such, to which you refused."

"That sounds interesting, but what motivator would she give me?" Hoen questioned

"Maybe the title of a Jarl?" Cerys made up off the top of her head

"No." Geralt had interjected "That sounds like a good idea, but we can't just go making up lies about people to come out on top."

"It's not that hard." Hoen told the group "I've done it many times. Break into a house, plant false evidence and alert the guards." Hoen then got eyed down by the two as if he had just stabbed a man in broad daylight "Not exactly the same thing, but all the same, don't ask."

Over the course of several other ideas and suggestions, they had come at an impass. The group were stumped, completely at a loss.

"There is a letter in my room." Arnvald spoke up "On my desk, in the lower right corner." Arnvald had lead the group to an open door in the hall.

Arnvald walked towards his desk and grabbed the letter mentioned. Geralt scanned the paper and saw the message given to Arnvald. He left the room with the other four in tow.

When leaving the hall, they were greeted by a bloody Hjalmar and Folan. "Did you find the culprit yet?" Hjalmar teased

"Actually, yes." Cerys smugly spat back towards him

"Who was it?" He asked in curiosity

"If you follow us, you'll find out." Hoen interrupted the siblings' argument.

Walking to the back of the keep with now six in total, the trial for high king had finally closed.

Upon meeting the Jarls, they proposed the evidence given. First the papers, then the steward. The evidence was dismissed heavily and given no credence.

Then Svanrige stepped forth "Mother, you bade me to leave the halls before the massacre. Why'd you do it?" He asked

"Son... not now." She whispered

"Why did you do it. How did you know what would happen! How!?" Little moments passed before the final wave of realization passed over Svanrige "You stand silent." He then approached the Jarls "You gave Cerys no credence, the Witcher no credence. But you must give credence to a son who accuses his own mother."

Donar gave Svanrige his attention "The massacre was her doing. She shamed herself, me, the family... the clan!"

"Svanrige, I did this for you. Only for you." Birna pleaded to the court

"You admit to this deed." Donar had announced. He turned to clan An Cráite "I the eldest of Jarls, cleanse the name of clan An Cráite... and you, Birna Bran, I sentence to death. You will be chained to a rock, to perish of thirst and hunger, and sea fowl will pick at your remains."

Birna had then been dragged off by guards, ready for her deathly departure.

After the crowd had dispersed, Geralt and Crach had spoken. The words were few, but not without meaning. They too, soon departed for elsewhere on the island.

Gedyneith

The sky had grown dark with many lights to decorate it. Beneath it stood a crowd, in front of a stage that presented the gray haired, Donar. "Weren't long ago we gave King Bran back to the sea. Today, that mourning ends." He shouted proudly at the crowd "Toady, by the grace of the gods and the clans, a new ruler of Skellige takes the crown." And he presented Cerys "Let us swear her fealty."

Filled with pride and joy, Cerys approached the crown to adorn her head beneath it. And so her speech began. "I know some would another in my place. I thank those who stood at my side. Here, beneath the sacred oak, I pledge to be a good queen to the ones and others. I want peace and prosperity to reign in Skellige. And I count on you to help me fulfill that dream."

The crowd erupted in a loud roar of praise. All chanting "Cerys! Cerys! Cerys!" To a fixed beat and rhythm. The flags waved in a windy night, and the horns blew like trumpets. The night had ended in song and drink, just like always.

Some time later

Hoen once more sat down for drink, only this time with those who with he had gained closeness to. "So, how'd you get that burn mark on the side of your face?" Hjalmar asked

"I'd rather not get into the details." Hoen said "I'll just say that a new partnership is more painful than I thought it would be."

Leaving that at that, a particular question had made its way into the mind of Hjalmar. "One thing to mention, when the bears attacked, you were right next to them weren't you?"

"Yes." Hoen clarified

"Why didn't you get torn to shreds like the rest of the room?" He pondered

"I have experience dealing with more than just Lycans." Hoen told him "Do you not remember the stories I've told of fughting off vampires, undead and left behind machines powered by steam?"

"Oh yeah." Hjalmar remembered "But they should have taken you by surprise?"

"They did, I'm used to being snook up on. But the roar kind of let me know." Hoen said "At fist a thought Lugos finished the keg. The I realized he was to my right, not my left."

All the way to sunrise a joyous time was had. A sleepless night with limited mead definitely started things, but nonetheless, it was enjoyable all the way through.

Cerys had the time of her life enjoying her new found power. Yet what others think of a female leader is a new question entirely.

**A/N sorry if that took longer than expected, I was honestly busy just doing nothing. So I wasn't busy at all. So yeah, I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think.**


	8. Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

**I am back. Hemilo to all those observing. I did not forget, I was just very busy with other stuffs (along with other shit, but that is not necessary to tell). Anywhomst'd have the read and fun as well.**

* * *

The winds blow heavy today. Hoen had left An Skellig to Spikeroog. He had heard about a haunting at an arena there. Went see if he could do something about it. The reward seemed to be worth the effort.

Geralt, on the other hand had gone towards an ancient garden alongside Yennefer. According to locals, a girl resembling Ciri had last been seen with a lad roughly her age who had ran from the field of battle. The man decided to reclaim his honor, never came back.

Upon Hoen's ferry arriving to Spikeroog, the isle seemed much larger than displayed on the map. All the same it was quite small despite Hoen's eyes.

Svorlag was the first stop he had encountered. The village was a quiet place. Peaceful it seemed, and little to do other than drink and fish.

Nearest to his stop was a notice board with papers barely organized across the thing. Out of the papers displayed, one slightly stood out among the rest.

Apparently, someone's husband-to-be had gone missing. Someone wanted him found. The coin seemed good, so Hoen took it.

Wandering over to the dockside he found himself talking to one of the locals. He acquired the information he needed and went off to talk to the wife to try to console her or at least help.

Reaching the small cliff side, he greeted the woman. "Hello miss." He patiently said, "I'm aware of what happened, but is there more you could tell me?"

"My husband has gone missing." She cried in sorrow "I don't where he's gone."

"I'm aware of that much." Hoen responded, slightly annoyed "The harbor men seem to think him to be an adulterer. Is there anything more you could tell me?"

"No more than a week ago he had left to seek glory." The tearful woman said "He's yet to come back. Could you search for him please? I don't have much, but I could scrounge up some coin at home."

"Could you describe him for me?" Hoen asked gently

"Tall, brown hair, wears a green shaded armor." The woman said while swallowing her tears "He's very recognizable."

"Just tell me his last known location." Hoen requested "We'll talk about my pay after."

"He was seen last headed westward of the isle." She spoke through fading tears "Please bring him back safely."

Hoen then went on his way west of Spikeroog. He didn't know where he was to look but went with no more information than the direction.

Geralt on the other hand had already found his destination. His only problem was where he was to look specifically. He had searched every crag and crevice of the garden. Yet found himself lost at every turn.

When finding himself across the river of the garden house, from the cave he heard a whimper. It was a ghoulish sound for sure, but the source was unseen. Upon the first few steps a large wolfish beast jumped at its prey.

The Witcher's first instinct was to duck, leading the lycan to jump over Geralt and miss. Landing on its hind legs, it quickly turned to face Geralt. It swiftly struck Geralt's blade as sparks ejected from the metal. The orange-red runes began to glow.

Delivering a heavy blow to the beast's midsection, a small burst of flame shot from the wounded area. Before the werewolf could strike again, Geralt casted a spell. As soon as the beast struck Geralt, it was blasted backwards to the cave walls. Taking advantage of his situation, Geralt ran to the creature and punctured its skull is with his sword. It lay there unresponsive, and soon dissipated to a green mist.

"Odd." Geralt commented towards the ominous display. Searching the cave more thoroughly, he found little more than a few small chests and a torch or two to light the area.

Leaving behind the cave, Geralt had traveled across the canal to meet the garden next to the cabin. Again, from the shed, a familiar whimper was heard.

His blade drawn, quickly after, doused with oil, he approached the cabin with heavy caution. The tension in the air felt heavy and stiff.

Upon reaching the shed, the creature threw itself at Geralt and knocked him to the ground. Geralt was granted little time to roll out of the beast's grasp. Picking his blade up once more, he made a quick move and bisected the lycan by its waist. It made sounds that vaguely resembled words as it gargled its blood which slowly turned to dust. Just as before, the man-beast faded to an ominous green mist without a trace left. "Something isn't right, here." Geralt thought aloud

Exiting the storehouse, Geralt made his way to a well that seemed to lead to a cave. "What's down here?" Geralt asked while climbing into the well.

The drop was short and long at the same time. What felt a a quick drop met a sudden stop at the top of the water in the cave. Geralt headed for the nearest land to him and was greeted by a body of at least in its mid-twenties. The decaying flesh left a rancid smell in the air as flies swarm around it.

"Have you found anything yet?!" Yennefer shouted down the well

"A body!" Geralt communed back "Looks like it's been here for a few days!"

"Do you think it could be our man?!" Yen shouted again

"Possibly, I'm not sure." Geralt said back to her

Pausing in wait for a moment of clarity, Yennefer had waited for an idea to come "Bring the body back up with you! I have an idea." The sorceress commanded

Hoen

When it comes to random caves, Hoen always finds himself in one. The cave water filled with gallons of blood. Enough to make a man sick. The several rotting corpses compared to just the one has a combined stench that would drive off any normal man and make a Witcher throw up his last meal.

At the end of the cave was an opening, and before that a totem stands crooked. Shortening the distance between him and it in a flash, the light beamed into his eyes directly. The sudden exposure to the outside left him blinded as he was struck from the back and lifted to the air from his shoulders. His axe was dropped to the ground and his shield from arms reach. His sword would have been reachable if not for his shoulders being pierced by sharp talon like claws, causing him great pain to move his arms.

With what little he could do now he summoned a spike of ice from his hand as it formed around his shoulder. As it encroached upon the siren's hand, the monster dropped Hoen a great distance before it could do much.

Hoen's armor took a heavy toll, receiving more damage than his body from the fall. The Last Dragonborn was lying on the ground motionless as the beast came down at his face. With the ice still around his shoulder and still not shattered, it went further up his body and braced his face for the heavy impact.

The siren's claws smacked against the ice, shattering it across the ground as its' striking claws were flung from its hand. Hoen struggled to get back up, with several stings of pain going up and down his arms with every moment.

Hoen struck the creature with his voice, a river of fire spat from his mouth and scorched its wings. It fell from the sky and crashed to the ground. The thing was horrendous. A red colored creature that held the lower half of a fish and the upper of a human female. The face was scrunched like that of a hagraven without its feathers and her hair wet and tangled in seaweed. The mouth left agape and it bears sets of jagged, rotten teeth as sharp as a dagger and as long as a hand. Her tits sagged like an old woman, all dried up and wasted of their use to infants.

Hoen wasted little time as he stepped on its tail. Slowly the siren became frost bitten from his foot. As the freeze got close to the head, the more it panicked and scraped for the cave. Soon its arms were covered in frost. One last move was made: after the head was frozen solid, he forced his foot through its chest, crushing her heart immediately.

"I hate this world." Hoen spat at his new life

After trekking again through the hillside, Hoen could only hope to find a place to rest. Both his arms near immobilized, his back severely wounded and what felt like head trauma all coming at him at once. "Just my day. What was I thinking? _Oh, it's just a small job, what could go wrong." _He had mocked himself as he sat at a tree side "Please tell I still have it." He pleaded to his pouch.

Upon opening it, it revealed a small vial holding a clear red liquid inside of it. "Oh, thank Talos it's not cracked." He said in relief. After drinking it his wounds slowly began to stitch themselves back together as if there was no damage done. Yet they weren't completely healed. That was his last potion he had. The rest were used up or given to the druids for study. "I hate this world, I hate these islands, I want to go home." He complained

He was finally able to stand. Hoen had walked back to the woman and delivered the final news. She was saddened of her lover's death, but relieved that he was truthful in his last words to her.

When she pressed to give him coin, he instead opted for a surgeon or village healer and a place to rest. That doesn't mean he didn't take the money; he just didn't do it right away. That arena was going to have to wait.

Geralt and Yennefer

"That was necromancy, you know just as well as I do that what you just did-" Geralt said before being cut off

"That what?" Yen retorted "It's vile and abhorrent? It's disgusting and evil? We got the information we needed. That's enough for me and it should be for you."

"Fine. But you should get out of here before the priestesses show up. I still have a werewolf to deal with." Geralt ended.

Yennefer left the garden, leaving Geralt on his own.

Geralt for the next while searched the garden for Morkvarg, killing him endlessly. Morkvarg always came back, just as deadly as last time.

"This is getting annoying" Geralt complained to himself. He crossed the river once more to go to the cave where Morkvarg would be again. For the first time after crossing the river, Geralt spotted a lever near the ladder. Geralt pulled the lever down, and a gate at one end of the river opened. "Odd" commented the Witcher. Approaching the other end, Geralt inspected the water before diving in. It was deeper than expected. Once Geralt was able to see again, he noticed he was in a tunnel.

Once Geralt swam to the other side he found a large pile of bones; some still had small bits of muscle and tendon attached to them. Something shone in Geralt's eye, something in the middle of the skeleton pile. Geralt dug through the pile in no less than 20 seconds. It was a key.

Geralt left the cavern with the key in hand. Remembering every locked door and box in the garden, Geralt was running around the place finding where it went. After multiple failed attempts, Geralt wandered into the cabin. Approaching the left door to the cabin, he pulled out the key and inserted it into the door; it finally fit. Geralt opened the door and wandered the room opening chests and looking through shelves. Eventually Geralt had found a book, "Morkvarg's Journal" was its title.

The Witcher read through the journal with contents of the man's indecencies before the curse. Geralt had never heard this from Einar. Geralt headed back to Einar to confront him about the lies.

40 minutes later

After dealing with Einar, Geralt went off looking for Morkvarg instead of avoiding him as usual. Geralt checked the cave, then the entrance, and finally found him in the back garden. It was a short fight, but it did cause more blood than expected to be drawn.

With Morkvarg down and holding his stomach, Geralt kneeled to his level unlike the other times. "I wanna talk with you." Said Geralt in a calm tone of voice

Morkvarg was growling and huffing, with a growl between every other word "Only now can I. Such is the curse." He snarled painfully, "Makes me bite, scratch, mangle… till I drop" The s's and r's were often elongated and out drawn with a growling sound, it sounded like suffering.

This time the growling was controlled, but still only slightly, "You've got time… before the blood's gone from me! An- I return. Listen carefully." Morkvarg said, catching the Witcher's full attention "undo—undo the curse… free me, finally… I will… I will reward you" the snarls picked up again; they were getting more agonized as he went on.

"So, no joy in being a werewolf?" Geralt teased slightly

"Nay" Morkvarg exhaled painfully "It's the worst. Not the garden to which I am bound, even… but the hunger. Anything I devour turns to ash! I cannot drink, I cannot drink, yet I bloody live and roam and prowl." He moaned in agony, he spoke through immense pain, every passing second Geralt could see him struggle to speak and move. The hungry pain made it a struggle for him to speak, let alone breathe. "The hunger is terrib—terrible! I bite my own flesh, but the smallest morsel burns my throat, like boiling tar."

Geralt sighed slightly, yet not at all unimpressed "Everlasting hunger – classic as far as curses go. Goes to explain why all those corpses went untouched."

"Help, or I'll return to shred you, rip you limb from limb!" The werewolf growled impatiently

Geralt pulled out a tooth from his pocket. "Here, put this on"

"I need no more fangs!" Morkvarg shouted

"Don't be a smartass. Just do it." Geralt irritably replied

Morkvarg took the tooth and wore it around his neck. Over the span of a few seconds the beast changed to man.

"I'm free! I'm finally free! At last!" Morkvarg was ecstatic and overjoyed. "Where's the tavern?! I eat a whole pig – no, a side of beef! Wash it down with a cask of ale! Haa… then to sea! They've forgotten me no doubt! I'll fuckin remind them! In Novigrad, in Redania! Everywhere!"

Geralt stood there sternly, a cold face blocking Morkvarg's path "Can't let that happen."

"Then why'd you even free me?!" Morkvarg shouted in a confused state of anger

"To get rid of you, permanently." Geralt reached for his weapon and so did Morkvarg. Before Morkvarg could unsheathe his sword, his head was removed from his neck.

Geralt left the garden to collect his reward and tell the priestesses it was safe. After that, he left to meet Yen at port to go off and discuss things further.

3 hours later, Kaer Trolde port

Hoen had gotten back from Spikeroog and had found himself in a conversation with Yennefer. She wouldn't stop the barrage of questions, all which Hoen gave a short and vague answer to. Luckily for Hoen, Geralt arrived to leave with Yennefer.

"You look like shit." Geralt commented on Hoen's wounds

"You don't say." Hoen said back "Some flying mermaid bitch fucked me up."

"Siren." Geralt answered

"It doesn't matter what it was, I just need a healer." Hoen laughed a bit. After a bit more talking, Hoen and Geralt went their separate ways. Geralt headed for the  
mainland to look for Ciri and Hoen headed for the keep looking for Ermion.

The sun was setting anyway, it was time for the day to end and for a winter to begin.

* * *

**A/N I set up a poll. Please check it out if you have a computer. I'd like it if you checked it out. Also, I am trying to set up a schedule to get out chapters ****efficiently. I shall see you next chapter.**


	9. International Affairs

**No I'm not dead, I'm just busy. I haven't stopped making stories and I don't intend to do so right now. Chapters are going to be slower coming out than usual, so I bid you a happy read.**

Kaer Trolde has been set to sleep hours ago by its main residents. All dwell in their rooms with closed eyes, drifting off and away for Vaermina to play with if she so pleased. But with a sudden interruption of doors slamming shut, the light sleeping Hoen wakes up from his table where mead had been spilt.

Hoen jolted and jumped at the sudden thunderous boom of slammed doors. He turned to the guard who slammed the door "What was that for?" He asked in a drowsy state

"Nilfgaard is in our waters." The guard replied urgently

"They're the men with the black boats I assume?" Hoen asked for confirmation

"Aye." The guard responded with a nod

The guard left to grab Cerys and Hoen put his head back down on the table. Leaving the room once more, another pair of large doors were slammed open and shut once again, preventing Hoen from going back to sleep.

After another few minutes of silent pondering, Cerys came out with the guard in toe. She walked over to Hoen and shook him a bit to wake him up fully. "Hoen, I need you for something." She said, quite exigent.

"What is it?" Hoen asked drowsily

"I need a bodyguard at the very least. Nilfgaard has people coming this way and besides him, you're the only one awake in the castle." She quickly explained

Hoen stared at her with baggy eyes "There isn't anyone else to do this bodyguard thing?" he lazily asked

"No one I can get at a quicker notice than you, seeing how you don't often leave Kaer Trolde." Cerys said

The doors swung open again, sounding a large boom through the main hall. In came a man in attire resembling that of a merchant. Beside him were two armored men, each one heavily armed.

"They look like idiots in that armor." Hoen quietly laughed

One of the bodyguards glared at Hoen, obviously have been able to hear his comment. "I can say the same about yours." The bodyguard commented "You dress like a bear and not to mention that you smell like one too."

The two men fiercely gazed at each other with daggers for eyes. In the meanwhile, the diplomat and Cerys had a negotiation on things regarding Skellige.

"I'm surprised you have the stones to speak to a guest like that." The bodyguard continued on

"More like invader." Hoen corrected

"We only seek to civilize these isles of barbaric raiders." The bodyguard answered back

Hoen chuckled slightly "Go fuck yourself. These isles don't need nor want your rule. They can take care of themselves."

"I knew it." The foreign soldier replied

"Knew what?" Hoen curiously asked

The guard got closer to Hoen, still maintaining a respectable distance however "You're not Skelligan. You refer to Skellige as _they_ rather than _we_, unlike a Skelligan would. Then there's your accent: it's close to a Skelligan accent but it isn't an accent I've ever heard before."

"It really took you that long?" Hoen mocked "Does the armor represent the state of your intelligence?"

"What does that mean?" The Nilfgaardian asked

Hoen laughed slightly, but kept the rest in "Black, the color of your armor, can often represent emptiness, such as your mind; a vast expanse of emptiness where no sign of intelligence can be found."

The bodyguard took a deep breath and stepped closer towards Hoen. "Are you so childish that you would mock a man's mind?" He mocked the Nord. "You make childish jests but have nothing to back any of that up. Are you scared or something?"

"What does that mean?" Hoen asked.

"You're a dog who's too scared to bite."

"Keep moving your lips and I might just _bite _them off." Hoen growled at the man.

The guard stepped back slightly. He took his left hand to his right gauntlet and undid its straps. When undone, the guard threw is gauntlet to Hoen's feet. The room turned to the act. "Clearly you have pride you wish to maintain, if you wish to die with it, you'll accept my challenge."

Hoen starred at the man. "So, if I pick up your brace, we fight to the death?"

The guard nodded proudly; his posture maintained properly.

Hoen knelt to pick up the gauntlet. He lent out his hand, giving the warrrior his brace back. "Tomorrow at noon."

The guard left his envoy, the diplomat hanging his head in embarrassment. "Queen An Craite, I do apologize for the actions of my comrade. He will be disciplined for his behavior."

"No." Cerys replies to the diplomat, "I should be the one apologizing. The man your friend spoke to may not be a native to Skellige, but he is under the employ of my family. I should have stopped him from speaking when I had the chance."

"It doesn't matter." Said the diplomat back. "We have an event to attend tomorrow that cannot be changed. May the next time we speak be at a better time."

The diplomat dismissed himself and remaining guard back to the fleet. Cerys turned towards Hoen, her face signaling dread "What is wrong with you?"

"How am I to blame? He's the one who picked a fight, I just accepted it." Hoen said in defenses

"That's not the point!" Cerys exclaimed. "I am trying to make peace with Nilfgaard and your actions aren't helping!"

"If anything, they'll just be pissed at me. I'm the one who's going to land the killing blow, not all of Skellige." Hoen explained with confidence.

Cerys took in a deep breath, she looked more agitated than before "We will discuss this after tomorrow's event, if you're still alive."

Cerys left for her chambers and Hoen continued to sit but more unnerved. The slamming doors no longer affected Hoen. He sat there and drifted off into a sleep that lasted until he woke.

Next Morning

A loud slamming noise sounded just next to Hoen's ear. The sudden noise forced him to jump awake. Wide eyed, Hoen turned to the direction of the noise. "Hjalmar." Hoen said with a quick and panicked exhale "Why did you do that?"

"I heard we got visitors last night. Apparently, it wasn't a part of Cerys' plan to get me up." Hjalmar says, "So what happened?"

"I got in an argument with one of the envoy guards." Hoen answered "I'm supposed to meet him around noon today."

"Just don't die, Hoen. It'd be boring without you." Said Hjalmar.

The doors swung open with a force, and in came a familiar face. It was the same man from last night, same black armor, same rigid face, same voice, "Where are we to fight?"

"Just outside the village seems fine." Hoen answered

"Alright then. Let's go." Said the fighter.

Both Hoen and Hjalmar left the keep and then the village, with the Nilfgaardian following. Once leaving, they headed further up the path to a vacant field. Hoen agreed to lose the sword due to its enchantment.

A few others followed them out to look at the spectacle. Cerys quickly followed and met Hjalmar at the closest part of the ring. Hjalmar's face had a large smile, where Cerys looked of mainly disappointment.

"Are you ready?" Asked Hoen to the competitor, to which Hoen received a slight nod of approval.

When the fight began, both Hoen and the man rushed forward at each other. Hoen brought down his axe onto his opponent's block, putting a massive dent his enemy's shield in one heavy blow. He came down with another heavy strike which was dodged, resulting in Hoen accidentally lodging his weapon into the ground with the immense force of the strike. The soldier attempted to take advantage of the opportunity given, only for Hoen to yank his great axe out of the ground to knock back his attempt.

Hoen stood upright, his posture straightened perfectly. Hoen readied his weapon and charged forward at his opponent. The bodyguard set himself in a guard position ready for Hoen's attack. When Hoen stood a mere yard from his opponent's face, he sidestepped Hoen. Using a small spin, he landed his blade an inch from Hoen's nape. Hoen ducked slightly to make the blade hit his helmet.

Hoen spun around quickly and reversed the grip closer to the blade of his weapon. He stood sideways with his axe blade facing the ground, and opposite of its target.

The Nilfgaardian swung upwards and Hoen came upwards with a swing from his axe. Knocking the man into a stagger, Hoen jabbed his opponent's stomach with the bottom of the grip. The man was forced backwards. Hoen took advantage of the situation and came at the fighter with an underhand swing, taking his helmet off and sending him to the ground.

The Nilfgaardian recovered from the blow and stood back up. On his face was a large cut from his chin, reaching across his cheek and stopping at the ear. Both fighters eyed each other. Hoen lead the first strike to the side of his enemy, hitting the sword instead of the body. "You missed." Said the man cockily. Hoen responded with a smile, setting his sight to his opponent's eyes.

A quick strike was made to the Nilfgaardian face, a strike blocked swiftly by his sword. When struck by Hoen's axe, the sword chipped. This did not go unnoticed by the Nilfgaardian. In response, the Nilfgaardian made a slight thrust into Hoen's chest. The thrust bounced off Hoen's chest plate, yet left Hoen surprised and caught him off guard. Hoen's opponent took the offensive this time around. He locked his guard with Hoen's and pushed back until Hoen had his back to a tree. Hoen spat in his opponent's eyes, leaving the man blinded for a split second. The Nilfgaardian was left open for no more than a second as Hoen planted his foot right into the man's lower armor plating and kicked him back. "I've never been this challenged in a fight before in my life!" Hoen shouted excitedly towards the man, his voice trembling in anxious pleasure.

The Nilfgaardian noticed Hoen's eyepatch. The bodyguard stepped into Hoen's blindside and slashed through his under armor, tearing through the material and his skin. Hoen was caught off guard, forcing him back a bit.

Readied once again, Hoen made another charge to his opponent and watched as he sidestepped again. Hoen pivoted to face the man and brought up his axe once more. By the time the man was able to block, Hoen's axe was already halfway there. The resulting blow shattered the sword. Hoen made a heavy strike to the man's armor to where it dented inward impressively. The fighter was left wide eyed and stuck in a daze. The man looked down at his breast plate and saw it caving in towards his chest. He looked up at Hoen while shaking off the look of awe in his face only to see the axe coming right at him. The crowd behind the man were splattered in blood. The man's head flew into the chest of an old man.

Everyone glared at Hoen. Not in amazement, or fear, or hate, but wonderous awe. The man caved in a steel breastplate with a single swing. What kind of beast is Hoen?

The crowd began to laugh in amusement, even the friends of the man Hoen had just slayed.

Later

The tavern was packed with drunkards and sailors. Hoen was almost completely blackout drunk and the topic of the house. Hoen had too many people surrounding him, too many people coming up to him giving him congratulations. It wasn't necessarily overwhelming, yet at the same time he'd not prefer it.

Hoen, as usual, left. Skellige has nice people but they were a little too friendly for his taste. Hoen stumbled his way on over to the bridge, tripping over anything and everything. He eventually made it to the bridge, bottle in hand.

Looking over to the far reaches of the Skelligan shores, there they were. Big, black, and an eyesore on the horizon. The sky could have been enjoyable if not for the false suns waving in the early afternoon sky. "Fuck off you bastards!" Hoen shouted while throwing his bottle into the sea.

Hoen retired to the keep. "I've had enough of today." Hoen said to himself. The guards were left to do their job and Hoen went off to find another place to sleep as usual, maybe actually use a bed this time.


End file.
